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ELSIEVILLE 


A TALK OF YESTERDAY 


BY 

Charles B. Holmes 




NEW YORK : 

Published by Charles B. Holmes, 
132 Nassau Street. 

1903. 



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Copyrighted, 1903, by Charles B. Holmes. 



P. F. McBREEN & SONS, PRINTERS, 
NEW YORK. 


gjejflicated to 

WHO, OFTEN IN THE “DEAD HOURS OF THE NIGHT, 
APPEARED LIKE AN “APPARITION” AT THE 
DOOR OF MY ROOM AND CHIDED, 

“ PAPA, STOP WRITING AND 










CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. — Descriptive 9 

II. — Argumentative 23 

III. — Reflective 37 

IV. — Romantic 49 

V. — Prosaic 75 

VI. — Matrimonial 95 

VII. — Love's Dawn 113 


VIII. — Entertaining, Not an Angel, Unawares 131 

IX. — Reminiscent 


X. — Felicity 


151 

167 




INTRODUCTORY. 


It is only fair to say to the prospective reader of “Elsie- 
ville,” that the story was written for the amusement of 
the author, and at the same time, to get into some tangible 
shape, a variety of thoughts which have been running in 
his mind for a number of years, on some matters of in- 
terest to a large number of people. 

Without desiring to shirk any responsibility for the 
ideas expressed, it was deemed best to have them given 
utterance by the mouths of different persons, who would 
become characters in a story that should contain enough 
of incident and narrative, to attract the attention and ex- 
cite the curiosity of a reader. These characters are plain, 
simple, though not ignorant, country people, but speak 
out in forcible language their views on matters and 
things. 

Many of the incidents mentioned are of actual occur- 
rence, and really happened among the quaint old fash- 
ioned country people, with whom I have spent so many 
happy days. 

If the story shall please, and assist in pointing a moral 
or so at the same time, it will more than have fulfilled its 
mission. 


THE AUTHOR. 



ELSIE VILLE 

A TALE OF YESTERDAY 


CHAPTER 1. 

DESCRIPTIVE. 

The town of Elsieville is located between the foot- 
hills of the not far distant northern mountains which, 
towering skyward, sometimes look like an approaching 
thunder cloud; and over whose tops often, in the bright 
sunshine, fleecy vapors hover “like smoke arising from 
vast volcanoes.” The town is in a fertile valley inhab- 
ited by thrifty farmers who coax the soil to furnish them 
a livelihood, which, though not abundant, is sufficient for 
their real necessities. The village of but a few hundred 
inhabitants is largely dependent on the trade of the 
surrounding country. Elsieville half supported three 

9 


10 


ELSIEVILLE 


churches, the Methodist, Baptist, and an ^^Orthodox” 
church, or what is now better known as the Congrega- 
tional denomination. Though these three churches were 
strongly divided on doctrinal and denominational dif- 
ferences, there were never three in the same town more 
united in everything else. A most friendly disposition 
towards one another existed among their members, many 
united services were held between the three, and all seemed 
to work together for the common good, the welfare of 
religion, and the uplifting of the community. Such a 
spirit of church unity is sure in time to bear good fruit. 

Running through the valley in which the village is 
located is a brook of limpid water, noted for its trout, 
of which many a mess was caught by wary fishers, who 
understood the art of angling for a fish so hard to be 
induced to bite, even at the most tempting bait. This 
stream was the outlet of a mountain-locked lake a few 
miles up the valley. This lake being noted for its fine 
fishing, the beauty of its scenery, and its pure health-giv- 
ing air, was a resort for a number of city people in the 
summer season, who had discovered its charms, and kept 
well filled the small but comfortable hotel on its border. 
Elsieville is outside of the line of customary travel, and 


DESCRIPTIVE 


11 


was but little known to the outside world. At the near- 
est railroad town, East Panlet, was located the only 
Roman Catholic church for many miles around, and 
Father O’Flaherty, its spiritual head, was often called on 
to perform the functions of his office for his parishoners 
in Elsieville. His two hundred and fifty pounds of ro- 
tundity, and his jolly fat face, was ever a welcome visitor 
in any house in Elsieville. Deacon Obed Bowles, a good 
old Orthodox churchman, kept the post office and the 
largest store in town, with the usual assortment of every- 
thing in the way of trade and barter to be found in a 
country store. No matter what the customer might want, 
if the Deacon didn’t have it he would try and convince 
him he had something just as good or better. Anything 
salable was just as good as cash to him, and barter was 
a large part of his trade. Many a time, would a snuff- 
taking old woxnan send down and exchange a new laid egg 
for a penny’s worth of his best Macaboy, or, perhaps a 
drawing of Young Hyson tea. 

One day a lady from the hotel at the lake, driving by, 
asked the driver to stop at the Deacon’s, as she wanted 
to get a few things there; and having made her pur- 
chases, she spied in the show-case a bottle of cologne 


12 


ELSIEVILLB 


which she purchased to give to Frank, the driver, for 
his wife, thinking it would please him to take something 
home to her, as they had but lately been married. Frank, 
on opening it, looked at the bottle dubiously a moment, 
and said: 

‘‘Well, I guess the Deacon made a good sale this time, 
for he’s had that old bottle of cologne on hand for fifteen 
years to my knowledge.” 

The advantages to be gained by a union of forces is 
seemingly recognized by all, except by religiously in- 
clined communities. There are many hard-worked and 
poorly paid shepherds of the flock who are trying to 
build up a church under adverse circumstances, impossi- 
ble to overcome. Many of them would do more good 
to the cause if they left the ministry and sought some 
other profession. 

Without casting any reflection on the many young men 
who enter the ministry from a sense of their fitness for 
it, and a feeling of their having a divine call to it, it does 
seem as if some of them looked on the ministry as an 
easy way of getting a living. So it happens that their 
families, finding them too dull and unfit for a business 
career, have them educated for ministers. Then some 


DESCRIPTIVE 


13 


poor, struggling church, in its innocence, gives them a 
“call” at a starvation stipend ; often making it a part of 
the bargain, that “he must get married soon” as they 
“don’t think a parson ought to be a single man.” But the 
last minister’s wife died of hard work, trying to keep body 
and soul together on the salary they paid him. 

The Reverend Samuel Fite, pastor of the Orthodox 
church at Elsieville, was a young man about thirty years 
old, very thin, sallow-complexioned, and about as nar- 
row-looking as he was narrow-minded in some things, 
which was not, however, so much his fault as that of his 
early training. But he was not so severe as he seemed, 
nor was he as austere as might be thought; in fact, he 
was rather a good sort of fellow after all, and likely to 
improve by experience and age. He had been reared in 
a “straight and narrow path” — ^too straight and narrow 
for his best development — ^by parents who were of the 
strictest and straightest-laced of their sect. From his 
earliest boyhood it had been instilled into his mind that 
he was born to eternal punishment on account of original 
sin, as were all the world; though he might be saved at 
last, if he was elected ; but he stood a far greater chance 
of going to a very undesirable place, than to eternal bliss 


14 


ELSIEVILLE 


in the great hereafter. He could have here no assurance 
just what would become of him until he stood before the 
Bar of Judgment. He was taught that it was wicked to 
laugh and have fun; "‘he should think of nothing but 
his latter end.’^ So with his mind stunted and warped, 
he entered a Theological Seminary, where was taught the 
most ascetic kind of religion. It was no wonder that his 
point of view was cramped, and his outlook on religious 
matters of rather a dyspeptic quality; neither was it 
strange, since a church will never rise above the level of 
its pastor, nor a Sunday school above its superintendent, 
nor a family above its head, that the Elsieville Orthodox 
church, in the religious standards set for it by the Rev. 
Mr. Fite, was of the most narrow and old-school methods 
of thought and action. Elder Eliazar Husk, pastor of the 
Baptist church, had come to it when a young man. He 
had, as it were, “grown up with the church” and become 
a part of it. The Baptist society was, perhaps, the most 
progressive, as it was the oldest, and most well to do of 
the other two churches in the town. Their old frame 
church had burned some twenty years before, and the 
one built in its place, of solid stone, was a marvel of what 
can be done when willing hands and hearts are united in 


DESCRIPTIVE 


15 


a common cause. There were in it stones that were quar- 
ried on the farms of almost every farmer for miles 
around, each of whom had gotten out of his rocky land 
large and small stones to suit his own fancy, and rough 
or smooth hewn them to suit individual tastes, and had 
drawn them to where the new church was being built as 
his or her contribution to the building. Though it would 
never have been selected as a model of architectural 
beauty, each stone in its exterior showed the individuality 
of its donor to such an extent, that the oldest inhabitant 
today can point out, “That there smooth stone came from 
Sally Timson’s farm. She was an old maid, and said she 
didn't let nothing go off her farm undressed to get in 
the new meeting-house, even if the Deacon had told her 
they wanted to build it of undressed stun." 

Silas Bode had the name of being the meanest old 
farmer for miles around. He had gone into the family 
burying-ground, a little distance back of his bam, where 
his ancestors had been buried for generations before, ac- 
cording to the custom in those days, in the absence of 
any general burying-place ' in the neighborhood. Old 
Bode had taken the grave stone which marked the final 
resting-place of his first wife — it had fallen down and a 


16 


ELSIEVILLE 


piece was broken from the top in its fall — ^and had drawn 
it to the new church as his contribution to the building. 
The masons, with grim humor, had used it for a lintel 
over the front door, as it was just the right size, and 
there it is to this day, with the partly broken-off inscrip- 
tion running up and down instead of lengthwise the most 
prominent part of which is, ^‘Beloved wife of Silas Bode.” 
He married three wives before he was finally laid in the 
new church yard, behind the Baptist church. A pipe 
organ had been given to the ^'Baptist Society” by one of 
the summer boarders at the Lake Hotel who had much 
admired the quaint old church and Elder Husk, its pas- 
tor. He had become acquainted with its history, and was 
touched by the sacrifices made by the villagers in build- 
ing the new one, in which almost everyone had a hand in 
more ways than one. At the time of which we write, as 
when it was first put in, the “Baptist organ” was the pride 
of the village, and many were the grand old anthems that 
had rolled out of its sonorous interior on a Sabbath day, 
as its contribution to the solemnity of the worship; and 
many had been the good old hymns of the church that had 
been sung to the rhythm of its tones as they led the peo- 
ple in music that rose like incense from off the altars of 


DESCRIPTIVE 


17 


their hearts ; and who shall say it did not bring down on 
them a needed blessing? 

“The Elder,” the minister of the Baptist church, was 
far over middle age, and loved by the whole community 
for his sterling qualities of heart and mind and also for 
his gentle and loving disposition. Nothing could ruffle 
his great good humor nor exceed his tact or his knowl- 
edge of human nature. There were never any quarrels 
in his church; he would laugh them away if any seemed 
likely to arise, and he could make peace among his peo- 
ple under almost any circumstances. He had come to 
the small boarding-house at the lake, some thirty years 
before, in search of health, his health having been some- 
what impaired at the Seminary from which he had just 
graduated; and the Baptist church, at that time being 
without a pastor, had asked him to preach for them a 
number of times during the summer. So pleased were 
the people with him, that they finally asked him to remain 
and accept the pittance of a salary they were able to offer 
their pastor. The city youth was so charmed with the 
healthfulness of the country that he consented to stay 
with them for a year at least, and now, he had been their 
minister for over thirty years. He had not been there 


18 


ELSIEVILLE 


over a year before he fell in love with the charming 
daughter of a thrifty farmer, and married her shortly after. 
When the new stone church was built a parsonage was 
put up alongside of it, in which Elder Husk had lived 
ever since, with his wife and Bessie, the only child that 
had come to them. Though the Society had not in- 
creased greatly in numbers, the Elder and his wife had 
prospered somewhat, for some few legacies had been left 
to them by the death of relatives, so that at the time of 
which we write, they were considered quite well to do 
for the locality. They had enough to make them feel 
that their old age would at least be free from want. 
Beauty, as the Elder’s daughter was called, was a general 
favorite in Elsieville, and in fact was the pet of the town. 
She was twenty-four years old, and no gathering of any 
moment, either social or religious, was considered com- 
plete, unless Bessie Husk had something to do with it. 
Her parents had been able to give her three years’ school- 
ing at a Seminary in a large town, to which she had done 
full justice, and she was fully developed in her intellectual 
capacity and much more accomplished than most of the 
young ladies of the village. ‘‘Beauty” was a nickname 
given her by her parents when she was a child, and it had 


DESCRIPTIVE 


19 


clung to her ever since; and while she was not what 
would be called a beautiful young woman, she had that 
loveliness of soul, grace of disposition, and winsomeness 
Oif manner that will make anyone who possesses it seem 
beautiful, even if nature has not endowed them with the 
wavy brown hair, liquid dark eyes, pearly white teeth, 
chiseled features and alabaster complexion, considered 
the mark of beauty. While Bessie Husk possessed some 
of these characteristics, she had qualities of mind and 
heart that were lasting, and made her more beautiful to 
her friends than any mere physical charms could ever 
have done. 

In a small town like Elsieville, there are usually no 
strong dividing lines of personal opinions outside the 
church doors, however much difference of opinion may 
prevail inside them. ‘‘Our church and our seB’ do not, 
as a usual thing, divide the people into little exclusive 
cliques to which no outsider is welcome, as is often the 
case in larger communities, much to the detriment of 
churches as well as to society in general. In Elsieville 
each one was so dependent on the other that, irrespective 
of church distinction, all were on an equal social footing. 
So it is not surprising that Bessie Husk and the Rev. 


20 


ELvSIEVILLE 


Samuel Fite often met in social and family gatherings 
and became well acquainted, though of different religious 
denominations ; and though they were so entirely different 
in characteristics and dispositions, they found that they 
had many things in common. Bessie was very frank and 
outspoken, but withal gentle and considerate of others’ 
feelings, while the minister was reserved and reticent, 
weighed every word he spoke, and was inclined to speak 
harshly, especially if his contentions were not agreed to 
by others. 

The Rev. Samuel Fite was unmarried, and though not 
prepossessing in his exterior, many of the single ladies 
in the town had discussed him in their own minds as a 
possible husband ; as it was well known that he had come 
there with no entanglerrients in the way of a previous 
engagement. Such a thought, of course, had never en- 
tered the mind of Bessie Husk, or if it had, she had at 
once cast it aside, for she could not consider the possi- 
bility of a Baptist marrying anyone who was not a mem- 
ber of her church. 

The little frame Methodist Church down by the river 
had stood there many years, and had the antiquated and 
barn-like exterior peculiar to such buildings in small. 


DESCRIPTIVE 


21 


remote country places. The Rev. John Lane, however, 
who had lately been sent to it by the Conference, was 
far from being antiquated or primitive; on the contrary 
he was what we now call .up to date in all things, and 
having a pleasing appearance, as well as being a good and 
forcible preacher, he was not only immensely popular 
with his own people, but with everyone else in the com- 
munity. No one could possess more of the milk of hu- 
man kindness than he did, and none could have more 
consideration for the frailties and weaknesses of man- 
kind, and, at the same time, so strongly teach the neces- 
sity of their control. He had gained experience in much 
larger churches in large towns, and had been sent here 
by Conference at his own request, in the hope that a two 
years’ sojourn in this healthful town would completely 
restore his health, which, at the age of thirty-five, was 
visibly beginning to fail. Having some means left him 
by his father, he could afford to take the charge for the 
small salary it would pay him. 

It is not necessary to depict in harrowing detail the 
struggles of three poor churches to pay their ministers 
enough to keep body and soul together. This has been 
written about often enough to become an old story. It 


22 


ELSIEVILLE 


is sufficient to say that the Elsieville churches were no 
better and no worse in this respect than many others. 
Around each church there hung many hallowed memories 
and associations that made each individual church dear 
to the hearts of its members. Was the history known of 
the sacrifices that had been made to support each of them, 
even as poorly as they had been supported, it would 
show a devotion to the cause of religion that should make 
many city church members blush with shame. Somehow 
or other, the Elsieville churches got along, and while the 
ministers were often pinched for a little ready cash the 
stores let them have what they wanted and never pressed 
them for payment. They never went hungry, for the 
farmers rarely came to town without something in the 
way of eatables for one or the other of them, sent in by 
the thoughtful housewife ; and never was a hog killed in 
the fall, but what some part of it found its way into a 
parson’s house. Never was a farmer’s cow sacrificed to 
the carnivorous propensity of its owner but what some 
one of the preachers was sure to have roast beef for din- 
ner afterwards. 


CHAPTER 11. 


ARGUMENTATIVE. 

The Rev. Mr. Fite was kept continually on tenter- 
hooks by one of the leading members of his congrega- 
tion; he never knew where Owen Bassett was going to 
break out in some originality that would shock the pro- 
prieties of himself or some one with whom he wished 
himself or the church to stand well. Owen was the vil- 
lage shoemaker, and cobbled the shoes and harness for 
the country people fof miles around in the same old shop 
in his back yard where his grandfather had done the 
same before him. Being a man of great originality of 
thought and of an infinite sense of the ridiculous, coupled 
with more than an ordinary country education, and also 
having an abundance of good nature, he was a sort of 
village oracle and general adviser, and in for any good 
work or assistance to others he could render. He en- 
joyed having a sociable time with his neighbors rather 

23 


24 


ELSIEVILLE 


more than reading his Bible, though he was a thoroughly 
religious man and attended to his duties as such in the 
best manner the light given him would permit. Children 
were his delight. He was never happier than when in 
their company and talking to them, telling them stories, 
many of which were his own inventions, or listening to 
their confidences. Mothers used to declare that the chil- 
dren wore out their shoes purposely so that they could 
sit in Owen Bassett’s shop and talk to him while he 
mended them. Boys would thrust their heads in his shop 
with a, ‘‘Say, Owen, gimme a hunk of wax to chew, will 
ye ? Ma won’t give me a penny to buy no chewing-gum,” 
and Obed Bowles used to say that Owen bought more 
beeswax, rosin, and tar oil, than would make shoemak- 
ers’ wax enough to stick up the whole of Christendom. 
Owen Bassett was an Orthodox churchman and one of 
its shining lights, but he was what might be considered 
unorthodox in a great many qf his views on various non- 
essentials, or what might be called non-essential religious 
dogmas. He said right out in prayer meeting one time. 
He didn’t care what people believed; what they did, and 
what they was, made them Christians in his eyes; and 
didn’t the good book say, “By their works ye shall know 


ARGUMENTATIVE 


25 


them” ? Sometimes in speaking in meeting, when Owen 
would for instance lose a word, he would adopt any 
simile for it that came into his mind at the moment, and 
at such times the Rev. Samuel would shake in his shoes 
for fear Owen would shock the proprieties; though to 
give Owen due credit, he never did so to any alarming 
extent. But so very proper was the parson that he was 
in constant dread lest Owen should. Owen’s sense of 
humor was keen. So inclined was he to see the funny 
side of everything, that it pervaded everything he did or 
said. His most serious moments seemed to be so illum- 
inated with this sense of humor that it gave an added 
force and interest to all he said. One time in prayer 
meeting, the subject of the doctrines was up for discus- 
sion. 

‘'As for me,” said Owen, “I don’t care much for doc- 
trines or theology; the Apostles’ creed contains all the 
doctrines a man needs to live and die by, and the more 
you fool with anything else, the less you know, and the 
deeper into the mire you get, and it don’t do you any 
good. As for me, I don’t take my theology or religion 
according to the Rev. Mr. So-and-So, or anybody else. 
Fve got the Bible to teach me and what that can’t do, 


26 


ELSIEVILLE 


nobody else can. People may talk about the different 
kind of isms in the world, none of them wouldn’t save 

you, not even the kind of ism taught down in the ” 

here Owen lost the word and the Rev. Samuel began to 

quake, “ ^the hydropathic church and its water-cure 

minister down the road,” Owen finally said. 

The morning after the prayer meeting. Elder Husk 
dropped into Owen’s shop to get a pair of shoes he had 
left there to be patched, and had a good laugh with the 
shoemaker over his break at the meeting, about which he 
had been told by one of his people who had chanced to be 
at the Orthodox prayer meeting that evening. Owen and 
the Elder were apt to get intoi a good-natured discussion 
on religious matters whenever they met, and today Owen 
was in an argumentative mood and at once commenced 
about the only subject he and the Elder were divided on, 
the mode of baptism of the two churches. 

‘'Now, Elder,” he said, “do you mean to tell me, if the 
Rev. Samuel Fite happened to be in your church and you 
were going to have Communion, that you wouldn’t ask 
him to stay and take it with you?” 

“Well,” said Mr. Husk, “yours is not a supposable 
case, for I think Mr. Fite has too much good sense to 


ARGUMENTATIVE 


27 


happen into my church at communion time, any more 
than he would ask himself to come to your home to din- 
ner when he knew you were going to have nothing but 
picked-up codfish and fried salt pork for the meal ; he 
would know he wouldn’t be wanted. Fried salt pork 
and picked-up codfish would be your family matter, just 
the same as it is our family matter to commune only with 
those who have been baptized our way, and I don’t believe 
the Rev. Mr. Anybody would go where he knew he was 
not wanted, or would not feel welcome, not because he is 
not as much a Christian as those in the Baptist church, 
but because at the particular time and owing to the pecu- 
liar usages of the church, he is not a member of the 
family. Churches have as much right to establish family 
lines and relations as any person or any combination of 
individuals. You church folks up town don’t seem to 
understand us Baptists down the road ; you seem to think 
us a parcel of bigots, and while we think immersion the 
only true way of baptism as taught in Holy Writ, and 
baptism of believers, what the Saviour taught, we only 
hold to that as a sort of family matter of our own, and we 
don’t pretend that other people who do not believe as 
we do are not Christians, we merely make it a condition 


28 


ELSIEVILLE 


of becoming a member of our family that they must con- 
form to our practices ; and I don’t think anyone of good 
sense would want to force himself on us unless he did 
so ; nor indeed would he feel at home or comfortable with 
us otherwise.” 

“Well, Elder,” replied Owen, “my views are, that it 
don’t make the least difference how a person is baptized, 
if he knows what he is doing; and if I was a minister, 
I’d baptize a person with a squirt-gun if he wanted it 
that way, as long as he realized the full significance and 
meaning of what he was doing.” 

The Elder laughed. “I don’t think that way would 
ever become very popular.” 

Always anxious to get some one cornered in an argu- 
ment if he could, Owen asked the Elder : “Now if there 
was only the Baptist Church in this place, and a man 
was sick and going to die and wanted to join a church 
and take communion before he died, would you refuse to 
take him in because you couldn’t immerse him ?” 

The Elder, seeing that Owen was trying to corner him, 
said : “There might be some member of my church that 
would answer that question by saying, no, they could only 
point him to the mercy of the Heavenly Father and hold 


ARGUMENTATIVE 


29 


out the hope that Infinite Love would do what human 
agency might nQt be willing to do, but I would baptize 
him in any way suitable to his condition, and administer 
communion to him, in the belief that it is a poor religion 
that sometimes cannot admit of the fact that circum- 
stances may alter cases/’ 

Owen grasped the Elder’s hand in a hearty shake. “I 
am glad to see there is one man in whom hydropathic 
religion has not washed out the true Christian spirit.” 

Just outside. Father O’Flaherty, the Catholic priest 
from East Panlet, was seen hitching his old piebald 
horse to Owen’s hitching-post. He had been sent for in 
a hurry to come over and shrive Jerry O’Brien, who was 
in his last extremity. While mowing the three-acre 
meadow on his farm near the village Jerry’s horse had 
run away and he had been throiwn under the machine and 
one foot and arm nearly severed. The Rev. Mr. Lane of 
the Methodist Church had been to see Jerry a number 
of times since the accident, and when it seemed evident 
that Jerry must die, he had sent to East Panlet for the 
Reverend Father to come and see the dying man, as the 
sufferer was a good Catholic, and he knew that it would 
be a great satisfaction to Jerry, if the good Father was 


30 


ELSIEVILLE 


with him in his last moments. When the priest arrived, 
the Methodist minister was in the room with Jerry who 
seemed partially to regain his reason at the sound of the 
Father’s voice, and the grateful and resigned look that 
came over his face more than repaid the minister for the 
effort he had made to have the priest with him in his 
last moments. Father O’Flaherty and the Rev. John 
Lane, though of such different religious beliefs, were the 
best of friends, and had many times been together at the 
bedside of sick and dying ones of the Roman Catholic 
faith. 

The Methodist preacher left the priest alone with Jerry, 
as he knew he would desire to be, in the performance of 
the last rites of his church for the dying. Soon, the 
Father called the minister into the room again. Jerry, 
soothed and sustained by his faith, had fallen into a quiet 
and peaceful sleep, though the pallor on his face showed 
that his end must be near. The priest laid his hand gently 
on his friend’s shoulder. 

“You see, my dear friend, how the influence of the 
paternal offices of our church can affect even this poor 
ignorant farm-hand. He now feels assured that, though 
he cannot make his own plea for mercy in heaven, he 


ARGUMENTATIVE 


31 


has a faithful frJend and priest to do it for him. Who 
shall say that our religion is not best adapted to the class 
it so largely reaches?’’ 

The Rev. John Lane looked into the loving, intelligent 
face of the holy Father, lighted up as it was now with 
an unusual fervor of religious zeal, and said: 

'Tf in all priests we had the great heart of the Rev. 
Father O’Flaherty, I should say Amen to what you have 
said: for no one knows better than I, what a solace and 
comfort your presence has been in many a sick chamber 
and by many a deathbed.” 

As Father O’Flaherty drove toward Owen Bassett’s 
shop, he thought to himself what a pity it was that all 
shades of religious belief could not find a common ground, 
when really there is so little that divides them and so 
many things in which they agree. From this it will be 
seen that the Rev. Father was used to indulging in spec- 
ulations that in his church would be considered hetero- 
dox. It is sometimes a cause for conjecture if the great 
majority of preachers really believe all they preach; if 
in the make up of a large number of professing Christians, 
there is not, down deep in their minds, a large amount of 
what would be called unorthodoxy, which would cause 


ELSIEVILLE 


considerable consternation among their brethren, if they 
should give utterance to their real belief and thought. 
Occasionally, some one from whom it is least expected, 
kicks out of the traces and says just what he thinks on 
this or that religious subject, doctrine, or belief, and his 
fellows stand aghast at his temerity, while he is sub- 
jected to disciplinary treatment by some one or another 
ecclesiastical body, whose members hold just as radical 
and unorthodox views on the same, or other more import- 
ant subjects. 

Father O’Flaherty, after hitching his horse, went into 
Owen’s shop to ask him to put a few stitches in a piece 
of the harness that had loosened. He greeted Elder Husk 
with great cordiality and said to, Owen : 

*‘By the powers, if you have a drink of water handy, 
would you give me a cup? My throat’s as dry as a last 
year’s red herring, with the dusty roads coming over.” 

“Fll do better by you than that,” replied Owen, and 
going into his house close to his shop soon returned with 
a pitcher of cold milk, a large plate of brown bread, some 
cheese, and three glasses, and put them down on the 
counter. As soon as the holy Father’s dry throat was 
moistened, his tongue became loosened and he began to 
chaff the two friends : 


ARGUMENTATIVE 


33 


“I have been thinking if your three churches over 
here in Elsieville should get together and build one good- 
sized church, how much easier you could support one 
than three. Now you, Elder, could preach close com- 
munion and immersion one Sunday, Parson Lane could 
have his innings on the next Sunday and give them John 
Wesley with all the variations, and Sammy Fite could 
come in the next Sunday with Galvanism and infant bap- 
tism, and every fourth Sunday you might have it a union 
service and you three ministers could draw lots as to who 
should preach on that day. Whichever one got it, the 
church should be called by his denomination for the next 
four weeks and then you could commence all over again.” 

“The great objection to your plan,” said the Elder, 
“would be, how would we ministers get our salaries? 
We have hard enough work now to get what is owing 
us.” 

Owen, who had just finished sewing up the rip in the 
breeching of the Father’s harness, interrupted: “You 
don’t seem to include the people of your faith. Father 
O’Flaherty, in the triple-expansion double-back action 
combination-church you have suggested.” 

“No,” said the Father, “you don’t think I am fool 
enough to spoil the chances of coming over here once in 


34 


ELSIEVILLE 


a while and seeing the many friends I have here, to say 
nothing of missing the baked beans and Indian pudding 
Aunt Hilda Johnson gives me when I call to see her on 
Mondays. She says she always heats the old stone oven 
hot enough on Saturdays to last over until Monday, so 
as to keep the beans and pudding just right in case that 
wild Irishman of a priest should drop in to dinner.” 

At this time a commotion was heard out in the road, 
people hallooing, dogs barking, and above it all the clat- 
tering of an empty wagon going at break-neck speed. 
Looking out of doors, they saw a yoke of oxen running 
towards them dragging an empty hay rick or wagon, and 
followed by half the town, yelling ‘"Whoa! Whoa! 
Whoa!” Several dogs, fleeter of foot than the people, 
were barking and snapping at the legs of the runaway 
animals, adding to their confusion and increasing their 
speed. A runaway yoke of oxen is a sight not often 
seen, and is sure to cause excitement wherever it occurs. 

Silva Bronson, who had been mopping off her front 
stoop, rushed out into the road, waved her mop at therri 
as the team rushed by, and shouted to the oxen at the 
top of her lungs, ‘'Whoa, Buck; Haw, Boss; stop, ye 
tamal critters, won’t ye?” 


ARGUMENTATIVE 


35 


A farmer had brought a load of hay for Obed Bowles, 
which he was to be paid for in part, in barter, at Obed’s 
store. Having unloaded the hay into Obed’s barn, he 
had driven the oxen up to the store and had just gone 
in, when two fighting dogs had rolled under the oxen, 
frightening them so that they started down the road at 
full speed. Many people followed them, thinking it an 
easy matter to stop them. But when oxen get excited 
they are a match for any man in fleetness, and will not 
stop until they meet some unsurmountable obstruction. 
Just outside of the village was a bridge over the brook, 
and there it was expected the team would meet its great 
mishap by striking the railing of the bridge. Just before 
the road came to the bridge, however, another one 
branched off, leading down to the brook. When the 
runaways reached this point, they turned quietly into the 
road down to the brook, and when the people who were 
following them got there, the oxen, having drank to their 
fill of water, were as demurely chewing their cuds as if 
nothing had happened. The wearied people climbed into 
the hayrick and rode back to Obed’s store, and the run- 
away proved to have resulted in little or no damage to 
anyone except to the nerves of those who had witnessed 
the scene. 




CHAPTER III. 

REFLECTIVE. 

The preacher from whom little or nothing can be 
learned is far from interesting, and has little or no influ- 
ence with his people from an intellectual point of view, 
as he appeals more to their amusement than he does to 
their instruction, and this class, unfortunately, fills far too 
many pulpits today. The teacher of his people, in all that 
pertains to holy living and a righteous life, accomplishes 
the most good, and makes the most permanent impressions 
on the hearts, if not on the minds, of his hearers. The at- 
tractive subject for Sunday sermons displayed in large 
type in the Saturday evening papers, as we find at the 
present day in church advertisements, savors too much 
of the theater and other places of amusement. It may be 
said that extraordinary methods to attract the non-church- 
goer to the house of worship, are justifiable; it is never- 
37 


38 


ELSIEVILLE 


theless true that our Saviour never sugar-coated the truth 
to make it palatable to his hearers. 

The Reverend John Lane was a preacher whose aim 
it was to instruct his people in the way of life in how to 
prepare themselves for all of life’s great changes, and to 
fortify themselves with divine truths so to ground them 
in all true faith and helpful doctrine; while at the same 
time his preaching was of the kind that could be under- 
stood and adopted by his hearers. He never preached 
at them, nor over their heads; but in language well 
chosen and forcible, he came down to the level of their 
understanding. He had, it is true, some few peculiari- 
ties in his illustrations, and the few stories he narrated, 
to add force to some of the points he made in his ser- 
mons, were anything but entirely new, and were oft re- 
peated. A few familiar names of dead and gone celebri- 
ties were his favorite characters with which to illustrate 
almost every Christian grace and moral virtue. He was 
rather addicted to bringing up from their grave some 
of the dead and buried ancestors of the people of the 
place, standing them before the pulpit as it were, and 
pointing to them' as worthy examples, to be followed by 
their descendants. Nor was he adverse to bringing a 


REFLECTIVE 


S9 


smile on the countenances of the congregation by enliven- 
ing his sermons by a humorous anecdote. 

The Reverend Mr. Lane was possessed of great good 
nature and a love for his kind which illumined his coun- 
tenance so that it was most pleasant to look upon. He 
was greatly loved and esteemed by his people for all the 
good qualities of his nature, and the tact he displayed in 
allaying any possible ill feeling that might show itself 
among them, on account of differences of opinion. He 
had the rare capacity of reconciling any inharmonious ele- 
ments that might arise, and keeping his people in that 
bond of Qiristian fellowship and brotherly love that 
should pervade those who profess to follow Him whose 
teachings were the “Fatherhood of God and the Brother- 
hood of Man.’’ One fault, if fault it could be called, was, 
that he was not a sociably inclined man, and while he 
was never remiss in his perfunctory duties as a pastor, 
such as calling on the sick, and those who were in trouble, 
and was ever ready to respond to any call for such duties, 
he never made merely social calls on his people except on 
those for whom he had a special liking. A pastor who 
neglects a social hold on his people loses a great Oippor- 
tunity to keep and increase his influence with them. No 


40 


ELSIEVILLE 


matter what excuse he may make for being remiss in 
this respect, and how much he may rely on his pulpit 
ministrations and the strict performances of his duties 
in all other respects, he can never be the same pastor to 
his people that he would if he became acquainted with 
them in their home life. Ministers ol the present day 
lose half their influence with their people by this neglect 
of the social duties of their calling; and how many per- 
sons there are in churches now, who have lost, or almost 
lost, their interest in the church of which they are mem- 
bers, because the pastor has never called on them except 
when they needed him on account of the ministrations 
he could best accord them. A shake of the hand once a 
week, on Sunday, or at the prayer meeting, or an occa- 
sional meeting on the street can never take the place of 
a feeling that we know our minister in a social way and 
that we have met him socially in our own homes and that 
he knows where we live and how we live. 

Caleb Alden had moved to Elsieville a short time after 
the Rev. Mr. Lane had been called to the Methodist 
church. In the town from which Caleb had come, he 
and his wife had a large circle of friends, especially in 
the church with which they were connected, and the min- 


REFLECTIVE 


41 


ister was a great favorite with them as he was a sociable 
and very companionable man. Caleb had settled down 
at Elsieville in a small house on the outskirts of the vil- 
lage, and followed his trade of carpenter, by means of 
which he was able to provide comfortably for his family, 
which consisted of his wife and one child. They had 
brought their letters to the Methodist church and had been 
received with that amount of cordiality which the Rev. 
Mr. Lane and other ministers of his kind are likely to 
assume for the occasion. They were not entirely dis- 
missed from the minister’s mind, but he had no thought 
of any further obligations to them as new comers, who 
had set up their “Lares and Penates” in a strange com- 
munity and church, and who naturally felt the loss of 
the pleasant associations and sociability they had enjoyed 
in their old home. Their former pastor was not one of 
those ministers who said, as do some, “If my people 
want to see me, let them come to me, and they will al- 
ways be welcome, but they mustn’t expect I am going 
to wear out my shoe leather and their door-mats by call- 
ing on them. I have better employment than spending 
afternoons calling on a parcel of females and listening to 
their gossip. If I must call, so they can say the pastor 


42 


ELSIEVILLE 


has been in their homes, let them notify me when the 
whole family will be at home, men folks and all, and I 
will make a social call on them.” Caleb and his wife felt 
this negligence so much, that they were inclined to ask 
for their letters and join the Baptist Church, even if 
they had to be immersed ; but they made up their minds 
first to call on the Rev. Mr. Lane, and talk it over with 
him. 

The Rev. John Lane welcomed them graciously and 
hoped they had found the town a pleasant place to live in 
and their church connection an agreeable and helpful 
one. 

‘‘That was just what we have come to talk with you 
about,” replied Caleb. “Do you know we have been in 
your church four months and you have not been in our 
house once?” 

“Tut! Tut!” said the minister. “Is it so long? I was 
thinking the other day I must drop in and see you some 
time when I was down at your end of the town.” 

“Well, pastor,” said Caleb’s wife, “I think it might 
have been worth your while to make an exertion to come 
on purpose, instead of waiting until ‘sometime when you 
happened to be down to our end of the town and I am 


REFLECTIVE 


43 


sure you have been down there often enough, the past 
four months, and it would have made me and my husband 
feel as if our pastor had, at least, a small interest in us, 
if he had just dropped in once to see us.” 

“We know, of course,” explained Caleb, “that you 
would have called at any time if we needed you for any 
special purpose, and had sent for you, but that is not 
the thing ; people coming to a strange church want to feel 
that the minister has a personal interest in them, not 
merely as members of his flock, but as individuals ; and 
it does not seem as if there was any other way for him 
to show that kind of interest except by going to see 
them in their homes, and becoming, as it were, a part 
of them, outside of and distinct from his mere duty to 
them as members of his church.” 

In many churches in both city and the country, there 
are people who feel the same way as did Caleb and his 
wife, and this feeling impairs their usefulness as church 
members. The pastor sustains a peculiar relation to his 
people, and though he may be an excellent preacher and 
a devoted Christian, and the most genial and pleasant 
gentleman in his church, if he does not have those quali- 
ties which lead him to desire to know them personally 


44 


ELSIEVILLE 


and in their homes, his usefulness is very much lessened. 
He may make the most plausible and seemingly reason- 
able excuses, as to why he is remiss in this respect, but 
they are never accepted by his people, though from neces- 
sity they may be acquiesced in. There will always be 
the feeling that their pastor does not want to know them. 

The Rev. John Lane told Caleb and his wife that he 
would plead guilty this time, and would try and make 
amends by calling on them soon. He could not think of 
their leaving the church for any other in town, and he 
hoped to see them at the sociable which the church was 
to hold next week, and they went home more favorably 
impressed with their pastor than they had been before. 

Three months passed, however, and no Rev. Mr. Lane 
had been to see them, though several times when they 
had met him he had made excuses for his negligence. At 
last, one Sunday morning. Elder Husk received them into 
the Baptist church. When he heard of their intentions, 
the Methodist minister called on them at once and tried 
to make amends for his negligence and to induce them 
not to change their church relations ; but it was too late, 
their minds were fully made up. They had attended the 
Baptist church a number of times and had been cordially 


REFLECTIVE 


45 


received. Elder Husk, who always made it a point to 
get to the front door after services, and shake hands with 
his people as they passed out, had greeted them very 
kindly and had dropped in to see them at their home 
when passing by. So the Methodists lost valuable mem- 
bers because their pastor had not the good sense to realize 
that in some, if not all cases, it is necessary to call on his 
people, especially on those who he can see are losing -their 
interest in the church for the want of this attention. 

The Baptists gained two good members, for Caleb and 
his wife went actively into the work of their new church 
because the people of the church made them feel at home. 
The Elder was not too lazy or too indifferent to give a 
hearty welcome to strangers, and having made their 
acquaintance, kept it up in a social way when the oppor- 
tunity offered. There was no proselyting in this either, 
for the Elder had never said anything to Caleb or his 
wife about becoming Baptists, and he was quite surprised 
when they told him of their intentions. Indeed he had 
tried to persuade them not to make the change ; but when 
he found them determined to do so, being a frank, open- 
hearted man, he went to the Rev. Mr. Lane and told him 
of Caleb's intention. 


46 


ELSIEVILLE 


am sorry,” he said to the Elder, ‘‘but I cannot bring 
myself to think that it is my duty tQ spend my time run- 
ning around this town calling on people. I think I can 
find more useful employment. I have people enough 
calling on me with all their little troubles, to make me 
weary of listening to all the gossip of the town in their 
homes. I feel that I am here to give spiritual advice and 
comfoirt and instruction to this people, and am on call to 
go anywhere that I am really needed, but I do not intend 
to be made the recipient of the family troubles and quar- 
rels of my people. Why, Sally Jones, the old maid, down 
by the blacksmith^s shop, came to me the other day to 
tell me an old black hen of hers had gone wapper- jawed, 
and asked me if I thought it was a dispensation of Provi- 
dence for some hidden wickedness she had been guilty 
of. I told her I guessed it was like a dispensation of 
something for the hen, but for herself I thought the best 
thing to do was to decapitate the hen, make it into a 
chicken stew, and be thankful if it wasn^t tough.^’ 

The Elder smiled. “I have in my ministry found it help- 
ful to me, and I hope to my church members, to know all 
of my flock personally and socially as far as possible, and 
to sustain as friendly a relation as I can with each indi- 


REFLECTIVE 


47 


vidual member. I make it my business to see them in 
their homes as often as convenient, and in this way I be- 
come acquainted with their family life and know best how 
to adopt my ministration to their real necessities. I hold 
that a pastor who only knows his people as he sees them 
in church life, does not half know them; for it is quite 
natural that they should be seen at their best there, but 
when you see them in their home surroundings you can 
better judge what their real and true selves are. It was 
only a little while ago I called in the morning, as I was 
passing by, on one of my people who is the best prayer 
meeting talker I have. I was sitting in the front room 
by an open window talking to his wife when I heard the 
man, who had just driven up to the barn near the house 
with a load of hay, rip out a string of oaths a yard long 
because the oxen wouldn’t “Haw” when he wanted them 
to. The wife and I pretended not to notice it, though she 
said she guessed the hired man didn’t know how to drive 
oxen very well. I knew the brother’s voice too well, how- 
ever, not to recognize it. I tell you. Brother Lane, the 
old saying, ^you must live with people to know them’ 
applies to the relation of pastor and people as well as to 
any others, and I would rather hold my people by their 


48 


ELSIEVILLE 


love for me as a pastor and intimate friend than by any 
other tie. Good preaching and helpful church ministra- 
tions will never take the place of a good pastor.” 

The two ministers parted, the Methodist saying that 
he would see Caleb and his wife, and that if they still 
desired to join the Elder’s church he need not feel any 
compunction in taking them in. 


CHAPTER IV. 


ROMANTIC. 

When the Rev. Samuel Fite was called to the pastorate 
of the Elsieville Congregational church, one of the com- 
mittee said to him : “Our last minister was a good 
preacher and all that, but now we want a minister of a 
religious turn of mind.” It was also intimated to the 
candidate that they would prefer to call a married man 
and would be willing to pay a larger salary to one with 
a wife, as they looked on the minister’s wife in the church 
as almost of as much importance as himself. She could 
take charge of the infant class in the Sunday school, be 
president of all the societies, and would be of so much 
use to the church that they did not hardly see how they 
could get along with an unmarried minister. 

“If you want a female assistant pastor,” said the can- 
didate, “why don’t you hire one and pay her a good sal- 
ary? When I get a wife I shall want her for myself and 

49 


50 


ELSIEVILLE 


not for the church/' At the same time, however, he 
knew how desirable it really was that a minister should 
be a married man ; and while he had not thought of love 
and marriage, except as a remote possibility in the future, 
he told the committee they might consider him in the 
market, and he would see what could be done on those 
lines after he had become well established as their pastor. 

Bessie, or Beauty Husk, as she was called by her 
friends, was a lover of music, and her talent for it had 
been cultivated while at boarding-school. She was often 
called on to entertain her friends with her singing and 
playing, as she had in her home the only piano in town. 
She played the organ in her father's church, and was often 
called on to play in the other churches on special occa- 
sions, such as festivals, weddings, and sociables, and 
many people did not feel that they had been to a funeral 
unless they had heard Beauty Husk play the '‘Dead 
March in Saul" on the melodeon in the Methodist church, 
or the parlor organ in the Congregationalist, or the more 
pretentious pipe organ in the Baptist church. 

One day a funeral was to be held in the Orthodox 
church and the friends of the deceased had asked the 
minister to try and get Beauty to play. Nothing loath. 


ROMANTIC 


51 


the Rev. Mr. Fite went to her home to ask of her the 
favor, and her consent having been gained, she asked 
him, “What shall I play?’^ 

“Oh, I suppose that old March in Saul,” he replied 
quickly, “and something else appropriate to earth lost 
and Heaven gained.” 

Beauty said she would be at the church on time, and 
asked him if he would not like to go out in the garden 
and see her roses, which were all in bloom. Beauty’s great 
pride was in her flower garden, on which she spent a great 
deal of labor and pains, and, in the season, her father’s 
pulpit was decorated on Sundays with a display of roses 
from her own garden, that added a sweetness and fra- 
grance to the dear old man’s sermons. After she and the 
young minister had wandered around the garden and duly 
admired the beauty of its flowering loveliness, they sat 
down to rest on a seat in a little vine-covered arbor that 
spanned one of the pebble walks. 

“What do you think of life, Mr. Fite?” asked Beauty, 
after a few moments’ silence. 

“I hardly know what your question implies,” answered 
the minister. “If you mean, what life should be to us, I 
think it is a place to prepare for death and eternity, for 


52 


ELSIEVILLE 


our days on this earth are few, and as the song we often 
sing, says, ' 'Tis not the whole of life to live, nor all of 
death to die/ 

The girl looked up at him with a smile. '‘Do you think 
that view of life makes anyone very happy ? For my part, 
I think our Maker has made the world so beautiful for us 
to enjoy it while we are in it; and we should not worry 
so much as to what the next will be, as we should take this 
as we find it. I am sure we shall be well enough prepared 
for the next world if we enjoy this in a rational way, as 
our Heavenly Father intended we should.” 

"Then what would become of religion, and duty, and 
the churches, if people spent their time in nothing but 
worldly enjoyment?” asked the clergyman. "Where 
would our duty to our Creator and our worship of Him 
come in? Has he not told in His Word that we must 
mortify our flesh and curb our desires for anything that 
is not for His glory and honor?” 

Beauty plucked a red rose from a neighboring bush and 
said in her soft-toned voice, with a depth of feeling that 
caused the minister to look at her with unmistakable ad- 
miration : "I am sure no one can live among the works of 
the Creator without feeling the desire to love and worship 


ROMANTIC 


53 


Him, but I do think there is too much dyspeptic religion 
in the world ; too much looking on the dark side of things 
and mortifying of the flesh, and not seeing the bright and 
happy side of this beautiful world we have been put in to 
enjoy. Our pleasures in it should be. made a continual 
worship of the Giver of all good. Should not our lives, 
like this rose, emit a fragrance that can almost be felt by 
those who come in contact with it? So should our good 
deeds, loving words, and happy, joyous disposition be not 
only the beauty of holiness within us, but shed a fra- 
grance around, so that all who come under the charm 
of our presence shall be the happier and better, because 
we have lived?’' 

As the minister arose to go. Beauty gracefully and nat- 
urally stuck the roise in the buttonhole of his somewhat 
threadbare frock coat, giving his heart a thrill it had 
never felt before, and which he did not then attempt to 
define, so delightful and unusual was the sensation. So 
accustomed was Bessie to such little graceful actions, and 
so natural was it for her to do pleasant things for her 
friends that she thought nothing of what she had done, 
not even the significance of a red rose as an emblem of 
love. But the minister, though he knew it did not mean 


54 


ELSIEVILLE 


anything on her part, felt strangely drawn towards her. 
As he took his leave, he asked her if she was going to 
the union picnic, that all three of the churches were to 
have together the next week. Beauty told him they were 
all going and asked him if he would not like to go with 
them in their carryall as they would have a seat for him. 
He was only too glad to accept her invitation and they 
parted, he, to his lonely room in the home of the widow 
with whom he boarded, and she went into the house to 
help her mother get supper. 

On the morning of the day of the union picnic the vil- 
lage was early astir. It had been arranged that all who 
were going should meet before their respective churches 
at eight o’clock and go in a sort of procession, each 
church to join in, as those from the other passed by, the 
Methodist church people to start first. Long before the 
time there was before each church door an array of 
vehicles of every description; from the “one horse shay” 
to the old hay rick, for all were to ride to a grove on 
the border of the lake. Many were the artifices used by 
the young ladies of his church to get the Rev. Mr. Fite 
in their wagon, and there was much pouting of pretty 
lips because he would not accept their invitations. When 


ROMANTIC 


55 


the Methodist and Orthodox processions had finally started 
there was much looking backward to see what he was 
going to do as he had not yet gotten into any wagon. 

When the Elder’s carryall drove up, the Rev. Samuel 
Fite was much disappointed to see Bessie in the front 
seat beside her father. He had hoped she would be in 
the back seat alone, that he might have a nice talk with 
her on the ride over to the lake. With as good grace as 
possible, the minister climbed into the back seat with 
Mrs. Husk, who was rather a portly lady, and took up 
much more than her share of anything she sat in. As she 
was no talker, and was interested only in the affairs of 
her household, it is not surprising that he had rather an 
uncomfortable ride. 

The day was one of those clear, crisp days that seemed 
to be made for everyone’s enjoyment. The procession, 
with its Sunday school flags and banners, and the many 
decorated vehicles, woiund now in, now out of a thick 
wood, scented with pine and hemlock trees, and then 
toiled slowly over a hill, from the top of which could 
be seen the lake in the distance, gleaming in the sunlight 
like a sheet of glass. Towering above it were ranges 
of hills, over which were scattered green fields of grass 


56 


ELSIEVILLE 


and grain which swayed to and fro in undulating motion 
in the gentle breeze. It was a pretty sight, to see the 
procession on its way to the lake, and the laughing and 
shouting of the young people with an occasional song 
from one wagon, which was taken up all along the line, 
proclaimed the fact that Elsieville was out for a good 
time that day. 

On arriving at the grove the wagons were unloaded of 
the many baskets and boxes of eatables, that each family 
had brought from their butteries as a contribution to the 
general dinner, of which all were to partake at noon 
around the long tables that had been put up for the pur- 
pose. There were cold roast turkeys and chickens in 
profusion ; whole boiled hams, and hams cut in thin slices 
for sandwiches, loaves of bread, cakes and pies of alP 
kinds, not to mention the earthen pots of pork and beans, 
with generous pieces of pork on top, browned off as crisp 
as an overdone piece of toast. All these good things, 
with many others, gave promises of a hearty dinner to 
all. The married and elderly women set themselves at 
work to arrange the tables with as little delay as possible, 
after having enlisted the services of two or three men 
to do the necessary carving, so that when the dinner was 


ROMANTIC 


57 


ready there should be no delay, and everything should be 
ready to eat. Some of the young people went rowing on 
the lake; others took strolls in the woods on the hillside 
near by. A number of the boys made for a sheltered cove 
a little way up from the grove, and were soon disporting 
themselves in the clear waters of the lake. 

Beauty Husk, who was always a great favorite with 
the young girls, had yielded to the entreaties of some of 
them to go into the woods and pick boxberry leaves to 
eat, and to find the sweet-flavored root and leaves of the 
sassafras. She had cheerfully consented to go with the 
girls and quite innocently led them toward where Parson 
Fite was sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, listening to 
the tales of woe of an elderly deaf woman, one of his 
people, who was telling him that she believed her Susan 
Jane was falling from grace since that city fellow from 
the hotel came over to their home one day to look at a 
horse they had to sell, and told her she looked like the 
soprano in his church in the city; that now she could 
hardly get any work out of her; and about all she did 
was to sit at their old melodeon in the parlor and give 
out such ^‘unairthly yells that you’d a thought she’d got 
a stoppage in her internal arrangements all of a sudden. 


58 


ELSIEVILLE 


or had seen a mouse/* She said to him she did hope he 
would speak to her about it, and tell her how sinful it 
was to be carried away with such pride and vanity. 

Raising his voice to a shout that the old woman might 
hear him, the minister had just assured her that he would 
talk with Susan Jane, when Bessie and her bevy of girls 
came along. 

“Are you enjoying the picnic?’* she asked. 

“I could have a better time,** he replied, rising from the 
log. 

“Come along with us, Mr. Fite,** said one of the girls ; 
“we are going into the woods after boxberry and sassa- 
fras.** 

He looked at Bessie as if to ask her consent. “Oh, 
come along,** she said, “you can’t have a much worse 
time helping me look after these harum-scarum girls.” 

So, while the youngsters were scampering ahead, stop- 
ping here and there to pick a wild flower, or gathering a 
pretty leaf, he and Bessie sauntered slowly along, enjoy- 
ing the beauty and fragrance of the sweet-scented woods. 
They stopped a few minutes, while he cut down two 
small saplings, and as they walked, trimmed one, care- 
fully rounding and smoothing off the large end with his 


ROMANTIC 


59 


jack knife, and gave it as a cane to Bessie, to “remember 
the day by/’ The other sapling, which he kept for him- 
self, was forked at the smaller end, just where he would 
have cut it oif; so he left the forks projecting an inch 
or more and sharpened their ends. 

“Mr. Fite,” asked Bessie, “will you tell me what you 
are going to do with that forked stick you are taking so 
much pains with? It is too short for a clothes pole and 
not large enough for anything else as I can see; it looks 
like the sticks they use to cut at my grandmother’s by the 
seashore, to string herrings on, when they wanted to 
smoke them.” 

“I have no particular use for it,” he said. “If I cut the 
forks off, it is too short for a cane, and I guess the only 
thing I can do with it will be to keep it as a reminder of 
our pleasant walk in the woods.” 

“I am glad,” said Bessie, “you have found this more 
enjoyable than listening to the gabble of that deaf old 
woman; but you know, as father says, you must never 
shirk your duty, no matter if you do have to shriek while 
doing it,” she added archly. 

They had now reached a place where the girls had 
stopped and were busy picking leaves from the boughs 


60 


ELSIEVILLE 


of low-hanging maple branches. The minister and his 
companion seated themselves on a moss-covered rock, 
which afforded just room enough for two, without crowd- 
ing. Soon the merry girls seated themselves on the 
ground near by and began making wreaths of the maple 
leaves they had gathered. From the leaves they gave 
Bessie she wove a large sash, leaf by leaf, and hanging 
it over the minister’s neck, let it droop down in front of 
him, making him look like some Druidical High Priest. 
The children nudged each other, and looked as people are 
said to look when “they smell a mouse.” Soon tiring of 
this pastime the girls started off in search of some new 
sensation after being told by Bessie, “not to go out of 
sight and to keep within hearing of her voice if she 
wanted them to come back to her.” 

Making imaginary excursions to China by punching 
their sticks in the ground as far as the soft earth in front 
of them would permit the minister entertained his com- 
panion with incidents of his career at the Seminary where 
he studied for the ministry. He told her how, when it 
came his turn to preach a trial sermon before the profes- 
sors and students, he got his room-mate to copy it off 
for him in his plain handwriting. With the connivance of 


ROMANTIC 


61 


Other students, his room-mate had substituted an extract 
from the most atheistic parts of “Paine’s Age of Reason” 
and he had preached almost a page of it before he discov- 
ered there was something wrong. As he looked up from 
his notes, he saw the room full of laughing students, and 
a look on the faces of the professors that bespoke dismay 
and displeasure. 

Bessie, in turn, recounted some of her droll experi- 
ences at boarding-school. The minister and the girl rap- 
idly became acquainted with each other and found, as it 
were unconsciously, a chord of sympathy that it would 
seem impossible that two such opposite natures should 
possess; he, cold, uncompromising, and dogmatic; she, 
all warmth and enthusiasm, sunny and cheerful, with sym- 
pathy always in favor of the “under dog” if he was not 
the aggressor. He, rather repellant; she, attractive; but 
not sufficiently impulsive to let the warmth of her nature 
get the better of her judgment and sound “common 
sense,” of which she possessed an unusual amount. 

“I understand,” remarked Bessie, after a short pause 
in the conversation, “that you would not give your con- 
sent to dancing at the picnic today, though my father and 
Mr. Lane did?” 


ELSIEVILLE 


“No,” he replied, “I would not; I am opposed to danc- 
ing in any form, and I think it a harmful and sinful prac- 
tice. I will never give my consent to its indulgence, 
though I know some of my church members do dance, 
and will probably continue to do so ; but I do not consider 
them any ornaments to their profession and such people 
are the ones who keep others from joining the church.” 

“Well, I suppose,” she rejoined, “some people will be 
terribly shocked at having dancing at a union picnic of 
our three churches, but I heard Mr. Lane and father 
talking it over after they had given their consent, and 
father said to let the young people dance if they want 
to. He thinks it better to have them indulge their pro- 
pensity for the amusement in the presence of their elders 
and under proper restraint, than to have them go to places 
where promiscuous dancing with people they don’t know 
is practiced. Like many other things of the kind, the 
evil of them is their abuse, and not their proper use. ‘I 
quite agree with you. Elder,’ said Mr. Lane to my father. 
‘The only difficulty is, where to draw the line between 
freedom of choice and harmful indulgence, or the license 
of unrestraint, and how to teach people to be able to dis- 
tinguish between what will do them an injury, though it 
may not be harmful to another* ” 


ROMANTIC 


63 


.“That may be their opinion, but it is not mine,” said 
Mr. Fite. “We are told in the Good Book to eschew all 
that is evil and cling to all that is good ; and I cannot see 
my way clear to make any compromise with anything 
that has in it any tendency that can lead to evil, either in 
thought or action.” 

“I really believe, sir,” said Beauty, with her sweetest 
smile and most winning voice, “you wouldn’t want any- 
body to have any fun in this world. For my part, I don’t 
believe our Heavenly Father ever intended us to go around 
with our heads bowed down to the earth like a broken 
beanstalk and never look up and see the beautiful and 
pleasant things of this world ; nor does our Maker permit 
so many pleasant things to exist, and we not to enjoy 
them, if we find they are not hurtful to us, of course. So, 
about dancing, card playing, or going to theaters, when one 
is in the city. We are so constituted that we must have 
amusements, we must be entertained. Our minds and our 
livelier natures must be refreshed and cultivated as well 
as our souls. Solomon rightfully said, I think, ‘There is 
a time and place for all things.’ ” 

As Mr. Fite hesitated for an answer he was startled 
by her “Oh !” and looking up into her face saw it blanced 


64 


ELSIEVILLE 


with terror and her eyes fixed on the ground in front of 
her with a strange fascination. Looking down he saw a 
large rattlesnake near her feet, coiled to spring, his huge 
flat head raised, his eyes fixed on hers. Without moving 
a muscle, the minister whispered, '‘Don’t be frightened.” 
With a quick movement of the hand which held the stick, 
he thrust its forks over the reptile’s neck, and bearing 
down with all his strength, jumped from his seat and 
with one foot trod on the body of the snake. In its death 
throes, the snake wound its body round and round his 
leg, shaking its rattles with a sickening sound. Soon 
the minister, perceiving it was dead, sank back on the 
rock exhausted and more shaken than he was ready to 
admit. Bessie, who had sprung aside during the struggle, 
thanked her companion and declared he had saved her 
life; for she said had she felt the reptile’s fangs through 
her shoes, where it evidently intended to strike, its poison 
would have entered her system and caused her death. 

The minister commended her for her bravery in obeying 
his injunction to keep quiet, and added, 'T would just as 
soon kill a thousand rattlesnakes — for you” — the last two 
words in tones so low that he thought she would not 
hear them. She did, however, and as she turned away to 


ROMANTIC 


65 


hide the slight blush that came to her face, she called 
loudly to the girls to come back and go down to the 
grove. 

Just then the tones of a conch shell reverberated 
through the woods, the signal that dinner was ready, 
and all strollers were expected to be at the tables half an 
hour later. The girls came running back to the rock, 
their hands full of boxberry leaves and sassafras twigs, 
eating the bark from the twigs as they came along ; some 
with torn dresses and flying hats, from their games among 
the trees and bushes. When they saw the snake, they 
were afraid to approach it until assured it was really 
dead. 

The minister discovered a hole at the bottom of the 
rock on which they had been sitting which evidently led 
to the snake’s hiding place. It evidently had resented 
their intrusion and first endeavored to charm and then 
intended to bite Bessie. They found that it was of the 
large banded variety of rattlesnake, more than four feet 
long, with more than twenty-five rattles. A string which 
one of the girls found in her pocket was tied around the 
snake’s head, and the group started for the grove, with 
the parson dragging the deceased representative of the 


66 


ELSIEVILLE 


Evil One behind him ; though it is not mentioned that 
he even made the attempt to perpetuate so stale a joke 
as, “having got ahead of Satan once in his life.” 

Gathered around the tables in the grove, the picnickers 
found an abundance of good things prepared for them ; 
and, being a very hungry crowd, these soon disappeared, 
and all declared they never ate so much or a better picnic 
dinner. Bessie and her group of girls were called on 
many times to describe the killing of the snake, and the 
Rev. Mr. Fite received so much praise for his bravery 
that he began to think he was more of a hero than he had 
supposed. Some of the big girls wished they had been 
in the woods in Bessie’s place, and one of them went so 
far as to say she bet Sammy Fite got some one to put 
that snake there, and cut that forked stick just to kill it 
and so make Bessie Husk think he saved her life. 

Dancing on the permanent platform in the grove 
proved to be rather a tame affair after all, as most of the 
young people were too tired from their walks and games 
of the morning, or felt indisposed to exert themselves 
after the large dinner. But a few sets had been danced, 
when Si Hopkins, the fiddler, broke his fiddle bow, and 
that ended the dancing for the afternoon. Some of the 


ROMANTIC 


67 


summer boarders from the hotel came to the grove after 
dinner to meet acquaintances they had made when attend- 
ing church at Elsieville. With them' came a few young 
men from the city who were at the hotel. One of them, 
a Mr. Crary, was introduced to Bessie Husk, to whom he 
devoted himself for the rest of the afternoon. To get the 
full benefit of the cool breezes from the lake they went 
down to the beach at the foot of the grove and seated 
themselves in one of the boats that was hauled up on the 
sandy shore. Many of these boats were filled with parties 
of young people who did not care to row, but enjoyed sit- 
ting thus on the beach. 

Although Mr. Crary was said to be a very rich young 
man, Bessie did not find him interesting as he was only 
one of ordinary intelligence, and was inclined to be flip- 
pant in his conversation. But she rather enjoyed having 
a new young man to whom to talk; and, being a young 
woman, she knew how she would be envied by other 
young ladies in monopolizing the best catch at the hotel. 
The Rev. Mr. Fite, for the first time in his life, was con- 
sumed with jealousy; and while pretending to listen to 
what people were saying, turned his eyes constantly to- 
ward the boat, wondering when the tete-a-tete would end. 


68 


ELSIEVILLE 


''Halloa, parson,” said Dr. Bronson, who had but a 
short time before driven over from the village with his 
horse and buggy, "don’t you want to drive home with 
my rig when you go? I have just been sent for to see a 
sick man who is taken worse all of a sudden, and I will 
be driven home from there by some one of them. Old 
Nan, my horse, has gone far enough today, and I would 
like to have her rest here until you are ready to take her 
home. I know there are plenty of your church girls who 
would think it fine to have a five mile ride alone with 
their dear spiritual adviser.” 

Mr. Fite, to whom this was addressed, said he would 
be delighted to accommodate the doctor but made a men- 
tal reservation that one young woman should share the 
ride, but she would not be one belonging to his church. 

Bessie, having become weary of Mr. Crary’s uninter- 
esting talk, had, on some excuse, left him and returned 
to the grove where she was soon the center of interest to 
her Sunday school class of small boys, whom she was 
entertaining with a vivid account of the adventure with 
the snake. Samuel Fite strolled up to where they were 
sitting, and took a seat among the group from which 
the boys, soon tired of keeping still so long, ran down 
to the lake and began to skip flat stones over its surface. 


ROMANTIC 


69 


'‘Were you pleasantly entertained by Mr. Crary?” 
asked the minister, with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Oh, so so,” replied Bessie. “He is not very deep, but 
evidently has seen a good deal of the world and can talk 
fairly well on what he has seen. He is a little presuming 
in his manner of expressing himself, but that is probably 
the way of the city. I like young men who can talk 
seriously and sensibly once in a while, and,” she added, 
“who can kill snakes in any emergency if necessary, 
though there may not be a thousand of them on hand 
ready for the slaughter.” This she said with just a tinge 
of color rising to her cheeks. 

Jealousy fled at once, and a feeling of hope and antici- 
pation took its place, as the minister told her he was going 
to drive home with the Doctor’s horse and buggy and 
asked if she would not accompany him. She told him 
she would ask her parents and, if they had no objections, 
she would go home with him as he proposed. The Elder 
gave his consent at once, as there were two old ladies of 
his flock whose rheumatism had come on since they came 
over, and he knew they would be more comfortable on the 
soft cushions of his carryall than on the board seats of 
the old hayrick, in which they had ridden there. 


70 


ELSIEVILLE 


It can be imagined that the parson was in the seventh 
heaven of delight when told she would be his companion, 
and he could hardly be blamed for a little artifice in the 
way of an excuse for taking the longest way home. They 
must go around, instead of over the hill, he said, for 
the doctor had told him' to be careful of old Nan going 
down hills, as she was a little sprung in one foreleg and 
was apt to fall. So he argued to Bessie that he thought 
the safest way would be to go around through Benson- 
ville, instead of over the hills. She agreed with him, as 
she was sure there was no danger that way. 

“But the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang 
a gley.” The three Stinson girls had come over to the 
grove with their own open two-seated wagon, and their 
little brother, who had driven them over, overheard Mr. 
Fite ask Bessie to ride home with him in the doctor’s bug- 
gy. When he told his sisters, they agreed to go home in 
their rig just ahead of him, as Alice Stinson, to whom 
the minister had paid some little attention, was jealous of 
his attention to Beauty Husk. To the disgust of the par- 
son, when he drove out of the grove and on to the road to 
Bensonville, he found the Stinson wagon following him 
and after a short distance it drove ahead of the buggy. 


ROMANTIC 


71 


Their horse being young and a good roadster, had no dif- 
ficulty in keeping ahead of the doctor’s old mare and close 
to her, thus giving the girls an opportunity to look back 
and keep up a running fire of conversation with the 
minister and his companion. 

For nearly half the way home this order of things kept 
up to the great vexation of the minister, when a mishap 
to the Stinson’s harness gave him an opportunity to pass 
and soon a short turn in the road hid them from view. 
Half a mile ahead was a road leading off from the main 
road which would take them home another way, and in 
to this road the Rev. Mr. Fite turned to be troubled no 
more with the Stinsons for that day. The minister was 
a young man of the most gentlemanly instincts. He would 
not for the world have said anything to the young woman 
by his side of the state of his feelings towards her. He 
would have felt he was taking advantage of their situation. 
But as he looked at her and felt her sitting so close beside 
him he could have clasped her in his arms and told her 
that he loved her, even if she was the daughter of a Bap- 
tist minister. 

Beauty, all unconscious of what was going on in his 
mind, was enjoying the way the Stinson girls had been 


73 


ELSIEVILLE 


tricked, and how their little plans had been foiled. am 
glad those girls got left behind,” she said jokingly, “but 
I don’t think you were very gallant not to offer to help 
fix their harness.” He muttered something to himself, 
the last words of which as she heard them, was, “the 
Stinson girls.” From his expression, if he had been 
other than a clergyman, she would have thought his other 
words very uncomplimentary to the intruders. 

It cannot be said that Bessie felt any more than a 
growing interest in Mr. Fite. She had seen a phase of his 
character today that she did not think he possessed, and 
had noticed a depth of feeling beneath his rather cold and 
severe exterior that was new to her. She saw possibili- 
ties in the young man that, if allowed to develop, would 
make him a noble and useful minister of the Gospel. Love 
and marriage had never seriously entered her mind; 
these would come in the Lord’s own good time and way. 
As she looked at the young man by her side, however, 
she felt strangely drawn towards him for what he had 
done for her that day. 

They arrived home just as the sun was setting over 
the tops of the distant hills, and as the minister left Bessie 
at her door she bid him a sweet good-night, and thanked 


ROMANTIC 


73 


him. The minister let old Nan take her way to her barn 
at the other end of the town. He was so full of his own 
delightful thoughts that she could have taken him back to 
the grove without his noticing it. He was aroused finally 
from his reveries by Nan stopping before the barn and 
by the doctor’s loud voice. 

“Well, parson, got home safe, did you? I didn’t think 
my caution to look out for Nan going down hills was 
much use anyhow; I thought Bensonville road would be 
your way, for sometimes the longest way around is the 
shortest way home, especially if you have a pretty girl 
beside you in a buggy.” 



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CHAPTER V. 


PROSAIC. 

For several weeks the Congregational church had been 
considering the story of Joseph and his brethren at the 
weekly prayer meeting; so long, in fact, that the good 
people of the church had begun to grow weary of it. At 
the last meeting the minister had made a short preliminary 
talk and had then given the assembled brethren a chance 
to speak, but no one stirred; for all seemed to have lost 
interest in the subject. 

If there was anything Owen Bassett disliked it was a 
dragging prayer meeting. After waiting a few moments 
to see if anyone else would speak, Owen arose. 

^‘As no one else seems to have any more to say about 
Joseph , and his brethren, I will, by way of contrast, add 
to what has been said before, a few words on a side of 
Josephus character that has not been mentioned here.’^ 

The minister trembled, for Owen was an uncertain 
75 


76 


ELSIEVILLE 


quantity. “We can’t always judge of a man’s true char- 
acter,” continued Owen, “without turning it over and 
looking at all sides of it, for we are not supposed to be all 
good, that is, not on all sides of us. Now I don’t think 
Joseph was much better than all the rest of mankind. In 
the first place, he was a little sneak and telltale; he’d go 
out into the fields where his brethren were taking care of 
the cattle, and then come home and tell Jacob about all 
the didos his brothers cut up, and get the old man down 
on them, and it ain’t natural that older brothers should 
like a telltale young one; ’tain’t a good way to bring a 
child up anyhow. Then, again, they must have thought 
it was like Joseph’s impudence, when he told them they 
would all bow down to him some time, and he be a great 
man, and they would have to knuckle down to him ; and 
then I should have thought the old man, Jacob, his father, 
would have wanted to box the youngster’s ears for being 
so sassy as to tell him he’d come in with the rest, and 
make obsequies to him also. Older brothers don’t like to 
be crowed over by a young feller like Joseph. Then 
there’s that everlasting coat of many colors Joseph’s 
father gave him, and how he strutted around in it like 
a turkey cock, and how vain he was of it. Of course, it 


PROSAIC 


77 


made his brothers mad when they saw him putting on airs 
with his fine coat on all the time, and perhaps he spent 
all his time brushing it off with a turkey wing duster, 
and wouldn’t do any chores around the place. And 
then when Joseph’s father sent him out into the woods to 
find the boys, he’d better have left his pretty coat at home, 
and put on something more suitable for the trip; but he 
went out all fixed in his best bib and tucker, and the boys 
wouldn’t stand that, so he got sold into Egypt. It is not 
best nor wise to flaunt the red flag of discord into the 
faces of our enemies. Then when Joseph got in power 
in Egypt and became a great man, and though he had 
been there a good many years, we don’t learn that he 
gave his old father a thought; didn’t even let him know 
that he was alive, nor send down to him and ask him to 
come up and see him. I don’t think it showed much filial 
love in Joseph to let the old man suffer and worry about 
him all this time. It is often the way with boys, though, 
when they get away from the old home, and go where 
they get a little prosperous, to forget the old fofks, and 
think but little about the fond and sad hearts at the old 
fireside, who have such yearnings to see, or at least hear 
from their loved boys, who have gone from them. 


78 


ELSIEVILLE 


‘‘I don’t see how Joseph could have had the heart to 
give his old father, Jacob, more sorrow than he had, and 
when the boys came to buy some corn, he was mean to 
have kept one son, while they went home to bring back 
the youngest one, and the old man had to be most starved 
out before he sent Benjamin to Egypt. I don’t see any 
sense in all the foolish pranks he played with his brothers, 
putting things in their sacks of corn and .making believe 
they had stolen them. Why didn’t he tell them who he 
was at once, and send them back to bring their old 
father up? Perhaps Joseph’s wife he had married in 
Egypt influenced him, and told him she did not want that 
hayseed of a father of his in her house, and those boys 
weren’t in her set, and he’d better let them go home and 
stay there. 

“But it came out all right in the end,” concluded the 
shoemaker, “and the folks all came up and lived in Egypt 
a long time, and Joseph is, no doubt, a great and good 
character, and if in our lives we do as well as he did, we 
will have no cause to regret it.” 

Mr. Fite gave a sigh of relief as he dismissed the meet- 
ing, with the determination hereafter to select some very 
practical subjects for the prayer-meeting talks. 


PROSAIC 


79 


On closing the prayer meeting, the settees were placed 
around the sides of the room so as to allow room in the 
center for the congregation to move about freely accord- 
ing to a custom peculiar to this church — the after-meet- 
ing sociable — which had been inaugurated by Mr. Fite, 
soon after he became its minister. He was a firm be- 
liever in the principle that a church was not achieving its 
mission, unless it fostered and encouraged to its fullest 
extent a sociable spirit among its members, affording 
them the best facilities to become acquainted with one 
another. He had observed in other churches he had at- 
tended that this friendly and social feeling could most 
easily be kept up in the weekly prayer meeting, and he 
had therefore suggested that after each prayer meeting, 
there should be held a weekly sociable in which an op- 
portunity would be offered for all to meet in a social way 
to shake hands with the pastor and the officers and to 
discuss matters of church interest. The minister always 
made it a point to be present, as was also a representative 
of each of the church boards and of the different societies 
wearing badges of office. This idea had at first met with 
some opposition, but after a few trials had proved a great 
success, and had now become an established custom, and 


80 


ELSIEVILLE 


it added much interest to the church work. New and old 
members learned that it made the church a home. No 
expense was involved and no extra trouble, as there 
were no refreshments served, and the entire time was 
given over to conversation. At first, no change was 
made in the room, but it was soon found that there can 
be but little sociability over the backs of chairs and set- 
tees and in the aisles between them; so the settees were 
put back against the sides Oif the room and its center left 
vacant. 

This evening, as usual, Mr. Fite was surrounded at 
once by a number of women who had confidences and 
suggestions to make to him, of whom he should go and 
see and whom he hadn't been to see, and what they 
thought of last Sunday’s sermon, to all of which he lis- 
tened with a patient smile, wishing all the time they 
would give him a chance to talk with some people whom 
he really wanted to see on important matters. In this 
country town, it was not an unusual thing for someone 
who might be going by, or who wanted to have a chat 
with an acquaintance, to drop in during the sociable hour 
at the Orthodox church. Two or three of the towns- 
people had come in and were being welcomed by their 


PROSAIC 


81 


acquaintances, just as a maiden lady of uncertain age 
was unfolding to the minister a plan for setting all the 
people of the church to working book-marks for the 
heathen on perforated cardboard with scriptural text on 
each in red, blue, and green split worsted. She thought 
it would be a great means of converting them, to have the 
Bible texts in gay colors always before them as book- 
marks. He had just replied that he knew no one suffi- 
ciently familiar with the heathen language to work the 
texts, when, looking towards the door, he spied Beauty 
Husk come in with one of her girl friends with whom she 
had been spending the evening. It seemed quite natural 
for them to stop at the sociable a few minutes. Bessie’s 
friend, who was walking home with her, said she guessed 
she would not go any further, but did not explain that 
she knew a young man who would be at the meeting. 
Bessie was anxious to hear how Deacon Jones’s wife 
was, and, as she knew the Deacon would be present, 
dropped in to ask him. 

The more the minister tried to dispose of the book-mark 
maiden lady, the more she was disposed to enter into a 
long argument about it and convince him that it would be 
a great means of grace. He could scarcely listen to a 


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word she was saying, he was so anxious to get away from 
her and go where Bessie and her friend were surrounded 
by a group of young people, laughing and chatting mer- 
rily together. Finally, after persuading the lady to dis- 
cuss her plan with Owen Bassett, he approached the 
group of young people and welcomed Bessie to the so- 
ciable. However, their quiet tete-a-tete — for the young 
people soon dropped away and left them alone together 
— was destined to be of short duration, for the eldest 
Stinson girl was planning a way to interrupt it. 

Obed Bowles, Deacon Haskins, and Owen Bassett en- 
joyed a quiet smoke on the church steps, listening to the 
piping of a tree toad in a near-by oak, and the chirping of 
a tell-tale katydid in a distant maple. 

“I guess we will have frost in a few weeks if that 
katydid knows anything about it,” began Deacon Haskins. 
Then shifting their subject to his favorite theme, the de- 
generacy of the times and especially of the church and 
religion, he continued: 

“A change has got to take place in the church before 
long or it will lose its influence on the people. Take the 
Bible now, for instance, it ain’t read nor reverenced half 
as much as it used to be by church members, and the 


PROSAIC 


83 


ministers don’t talk or preach as much about it as they 
ought to/’ 

“Yes,” spoke up Obed Bowles, whose store-keeper in- 
stinct was always uppermost in his mind, “I don’t sell 
near as many Bibles as I used to, and I have some real 
nice cheap ones in my store. I sell twenty dime novels 
and yaller-covered books to one Bible. It does beat all, 
how little the young folks seem to care for the Bible 
nowadays and some of the older church members, too, for 
I know lots of them don’t look into their Bibles from one 
week’s end to another.” 

“And there is the Sunday school,” says the Deacon; 
“I haven’t any patience with the new fangled notions 
they’ve got in them. Look at the Universal Lesson Pa- 
pers, as they call them, made to fit, so they think, any 
school from ‘Africa’s sunny mountains to India’s coral 
strand’ — ready-made questions and answers, more geog- 
raphy and biography and history in them than there is 
solid religion. When I was a boy, we studied the Bible, 
and didn’t have to pay twenty dollars a year for a lot of 
lesson papers for the whole school. Each one bought his 
own Bible, and when we got into an older class, we had 
a question book that cost us six cents apiece. Then when 


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we went to Sunday school, if we didn’t have a verse or 
two in the Bible to say to our teacher, we weren’t thought 
smart. My boy, Tim, grabs up his lesson paper half an 
hour before Sunday school and reads over the Golden 
Rule, or text, I guess they call it, and skips to the school 
and don’t know any more about the lesson when he gets 
there than nothing at all. But when the teacher asks him 
a question, he just reads the answer from the lesson 
paper and the teacher thinks him real smart.” 

‘Tt looks to me,” said Obed, “as if these patent lesson 
papers were got up by a parcel of preachers, or the sub- 
jects are picked out, at least, by a lot of parsons, with- 
out any regard to whether they are fit for Sunday school 
lessons or not. Why don’t they get some plain, good, 
earnest Sunday school teachers together, and let them 
get up the subjects for lesson papers? I’ll bet they’d get 
something that the teachers and scholars would under- 
stand and that would teach them religion and how to 
grow up and be good men and women. Half the stuff 
taught in Sunday schools ought to be taught in the day 
schools, and the half hour of Sunday school teaching 
should be given up to nothing but teaching religion. 
Why, my daughter, Susan, last Sunday, when she came 


PROSAIC 


85 


home from Sunday school, didn’t know anything about 
the lesson except that the sea of Galilee had two or three 
different names, but she said, ‘Her teacher told the class 
a lovely story she had read in one of the weekly papers, 
about a girl and her feller who went out a sailing on a 
lake one day and got upset, and how a handsome man, 
who was in a little steam launch, rescued them and fell in 
love with her and finally married her, and she jilted her 
other feller.’ I suppose Susan’s teacher had told her class 
all she could about the Sea of Galilee, and had to fill up 
the time with something to interest the girls; but the 
teacher weren’t a professing Christian herself, and I don’t 
hold to any other being put in as a Sunday school teacher, 
for I wouldn’t send my son to a blacksmith to learn to 
be a carpenter, nor should parents send their children to 
Sunday schools to learn how to grow up Christians from 
a teacher who is not a professor of religion.” 

Owen Bassett, whose sympathies were always with the 
young people, and was ever ready to defend them from 
those who expected them to have the same experience 
and discretion as older persons, now chimed in : 

“I think you are partly right and partly wrong, breth- 
ren, in what you have said. There is, no doubt, great 


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ELSIEVILLE 


room for improvement in many religious matters and I 
think time will bring it about. The world is progressing 
and so is religion; but I do not so much blame some 
people for their seeming neglect of the Bible. We are not 
all constituted alike ; some are by nature devout, and take 
naturally to all that is religious, and good, and holy, and 
there are many such who have never made a public profes- 
sion of religion, but who read the Bible devoutly and 
worshippingly. When such become what is called re- 
ligious, ^it is natural that then their love for Holy Writ 
should become intensified, and those are the ones who are 
constant readers and students of it. Then there are 
others, who, while religious and love holy things, look 
Upon the Bible with great reverence and love, and ac- 
knowledge it as the divine word, but consider its read- 
ing and study as an act of worship, and not to be lightly 
considered. To gain any benefit from it, they must be in 
a holy and worshipful spirit when they approach it. That 
they are not more often in this spirit than they seem to 
be, or what would be good for them to be, is a matter 
that perhaps can be better left to their own consciences 
than to our criticisms. 

“Now as to the young people’s seeming neglect of the 


PROSAIC 


87 


Bible, and I am now speaking of young professing Chris- 
tians, we cannot expect them to have the same expe- 
riences and feelings as other persons, who have had a 
deeper and larger religious life. We hope, of course, that 
young persons who have become church members will 
grow into every Christian grace and moral virtue, but 
if we expect they will jump right into it at once, we 
will be mistaken and disappointed, and they won’t do it. 
With some, and perhaps a great many, the daily and 
systematic reading and study of the Bible is an acquired 
task, like eating olives ; and, like 'growth in grace,’ comes 
slow; and it is quite natural that with the young, with 
their love to be amused more than to be instructed and 
their flow of animal spirits, they should, without mean- 
ing anything wrong, neglect some duties, that in later 
years, we trust, will seem obligatory to them.” 

The social hour was now over, and people began to 
come out of the building and to wend their way home- 
ward. “That Stinson girl” had carried out her plan and 
tried to break up the quiet talk Bessie Husk and the min- 
ister were having in the comer of the room. 

“When you can find a few moments to spare from the 
visitors who have come here to-night,” she had said to 


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ELSIEVILLE 


Mr. Fite,” I should like to speak to you about the infant 
class.” 

'‘You can speak to me about it now,” replied the min- 
ister, equal to the occasion. “I am sure Miss Husk will 
like to hear about it, as you know she is no stranger, 
and we always consider her as almost one of us.” 

“Oh! I didn’t know it had got so far along as that,” 
the Stinson girl said spitefully, as she flounced away. 

Bessie flushed slightly at the rudeness of the girl, but 
said nothing. The minister remarked that he was glad 
to get out of doors and breathe a little fresh air, and 
asked Bessie if she would mind his walking the rest of 
the way home with her, as he would enjoy a walk after 
the confinement of the meeting-room. She consented, 
admitting that she was a little timid, and was especially 
afraid of dogs. The Stinson girl had taken her departure, 
after having satisfied herself the minister was going to 
take Bessie home; but did not go until she had told two 
or three persons that the minister had told her that he and 
Miss Husk were as good as engaged. 

As Mr. Fite and Bessie walked slowly down the road 
towards her home, in the clear, cool evening, it seemed 
as if the stars had hung out extra lanterns in the sky, so 


PROSAIC 


89 


brilliantly did they twinkle ; and the gentle breeze wafted 
down the valley was laden with the fragrance of wood 
and mountain. Mr. Fite gallantly offered his arm to his 
companion, and she laid the tips of her fingers on it, 
but it must be confessed she grasped his arm tightly 
as they came to a lonely part of the road, and approached 
a house where she knew a savage dog was kept. 

“I am coming down to see your father,” said Mr. 
Fite, after a few moments of silence. “I want to see 
him about holding some union meetings this fall, as I 
think they will be helpful to us all.” 

“That will be nice,” said she. “I am in favor of 
church union, and I am sure father will be glad to join in 
such a movement.” 

“The more I think of it, the better I am satisfied there 
should be more unity among all the churches. There 
should be a common ground, on which we all can stand,” 
said the minister. 

“I am sure,” replied Bessie, “I wish there could be, but 
Papa, I know, would never give up his views on close 
communion and baptism, though he is liberal enough in 
everything else.” 

“I think,” dogmatically said the person, “there could' 


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easily be an understanding between the Baptists and 
other denominations, by a little giving in of one to an- 
other. Suppose the Baptists should agree to admit to 
their communion and church membership any member 
of good standing in any other church, no matter how bap- 
tised, and the other denominations should agree not to 
admit to their membership any one who was not baptised 
as a believer when he joined the church on profession 
of faith, no matter if he had been baptised in infancy or 
not. They could then disagree on anything else or not 
as they chose. 

Ah, Samuel, Samuel, love was doing its perfect work 
in your heart, if not exactly in the way provided in the 
Scriptures. You are floundering around for some way 
by which you may sometime be able to convince the fair 
girl by your side that to love an Orthodox clergyman 
would not be wrong for the daughter of a strictly Baptist 
minister. 

During the recital of this unorthodox and rather im- 
practicable plan, Bessie had grasped his arm more tight- 
ly, and in fact was walking closer to him than before. 
She could not think it possible that the strictly orthodox 
and rather severe Rev. Samuel Fite could have such 
liberal opinions. 


PROSAIC 


91 


“I am afraid,” she said, ^‘the time will never come 
when so great a union of churches will be possible, though 
it ought to be. I never could see how you and father 
and Mr. Lane can officiate at weddings and funerals to- 
gether as you often do, and meet beside sick beds so 
many times, and help each other in your work in so many 
ways, and still not sit at the same communion table to- 
gether. 

“Though we can have union meetings and union pic- 
nics together,” broke in Mr. Fite slyly. 

“Yes, and kill snakes for each other, and perhaps save 
Baptist girls' lives, too,” added she archly. “I shudder 
whenever I think of that dreadful snake so near, and I 
shall never think of a snake again, without thinking 
of ” you, she was about to say, but so corrected her- 

self and said, “of your coolness in killing it so bravely.” 

He had noticed her hesitation, and knew how nearly she 
had said “you,” and looking at her rather gravely, asked 
her why she had not said the “you” as she intended, add- 
ing, “It would be happiness to me to know that some- 
thing, if it was only a snake, would keep me in your 
thoughts.” 

She drew her arm from his and stepped to the other 


92 


ELSIEVILLE 


side of the path, saying she wished she had come home 
alone and she wouldn't have said such silly things. He 
crossed the path to her side and silently offered her his 
arm, which she took again after a moment’s hesitation. 

At a turn in the road, the Methodist meeting-house 
came in sight, lighted up, much to their surprise, as if a 
protracted meeting were in progress. 

didn’t know the Methodists had a meeting tonight,” 
said Bessie. 

“Nor I, either,” he replied; “if they are, it must be a 
long one.” 

Just then the light grew brighter, and they saw a small 
flame break out from the shingled roof and smoke com- 
ing out of the windows. Realizing suddenly that the 
house was on fire, they shouted “Fire! Fire!” at the top 
of their voices until the inmates of the nearest houses, 
startled by their cries, rushed out and joined in the alarm 
which soon roused the whole village. The flames which 
had lighted up the sky soon died down and a smoldering 
heap of ashes was all that remained of the old meeting- 
house. 

The Rev. John Lane and many of his people stood sor- 
rowfully by, watching the destruction of their beloved 


PROSAIC 


93 


church. Mr. Fite tried to cheer him by telling him that 
perhaps it was the hand of Providence since they were so 
badly in need of a new church. But Mr. Lane knew too 
well that it would be a long time before his poor con- 
gregation could build one. Mr. Fite told him he would 
call his deacons together the next day and make some 
arrangements, by which both churches could use the 
Orthodox church together. Bessie’s father, who had 
come to the fire, condoled with the Methodist minister, 
and told him he was welcome to anything his church 
could do for him. Then, thanking Mr. Fite for seeing 
his daughter so far home, he took her the rest of the 
way with him. 

The next day, at the suggestion of their minister, the 
deacons of the Orthodox church voted to invite the Meth- 
odists to use their church for such services as they chose 
to hold in it. The result was that the two denominations 
used the Orthodox church building together, one church 
and one preacher holding services Sunday morning, and 
the other church Sunday evening, with a joint mid-week 
prayer meeting. 

As the Rev. Mr. John Lane feared, the society was too 
poor to build a new building, and no help could be had 


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ELSIEVILLE 


outside. The North Conference, to which they belonged, 
could not see its way clear to help the society, but agreed 
that Mr. Lane should stay out his term of two years as 
the pastor, and that they would make up any deficiency 
in his salary. Mr. Lane was agreeable to this, and 
readily fell into the arrangement made by the Orthodox 
society, as he liked the town and many of its people, 
and saw an opportunity for study in the greater number 
of leisure hours he would now have. 


CHAPTER VI. 


MATRIMONIAL. 

’Squire Minturn owned one of the best farms in Elsie- 
ville. It was but a short distance from the village, and 
was beautifully situated on the side of one of the near- 
by hills, sloping down to the brook, where lay many acres 
of meadow land, and running up the hillside where it 
ended in a fine wood of sugar-maples, which yielded much 
sugar and syrup each spring. Farms in this section were 
chiefly valuable for their dairy and maple products, being 
too far from any market to find a ready sale for other 
crops. A farm was accordingly rated at the number of 
cows it could pasture, rather than by the number of 
acres it contained, and ’Squire Minturn’s farm was spoken 
of as being '^a one hundred and fifty cow farm.” 

Ami Whitney owned the adjoining farm, which was 
also a large one of “one hundred cow power,” and Billy 
Whitney, his only child, and Dorothy Minturn, the 

95 


96 


ELSIEVILLE 


’Squire’s only daughter, had grown up as playmates to- 
gether from childhood, and now were soon to be mar- 
ried. Dorothy was going to live with Billy at the Whit- 
ney house, and the families were so near each other that 
it could hardly be said that either had lost a daughter 
and gained a son, or vice versa. Great preparations had 
been made for this marriage at ’Squire Minturn’s home. 
It was to be one of the largest weddings held in that sec- 
tion for many a day, and nearly all the country people for 
miles around had been invited. As Dolly and Billy were 
universal favorites, there were very few who failed to ac- 
cept the invitation. As Billy’s father was a staunch Bap- 
tist and Dolly’s father. Orthodox, it was arranged that 
Elder Husk and Mr. Fite should both assist in the mar- 
riage and that the Reverend Mr. Lane should invoke a 
blessing on the union. 

The wedding was to take place at half past seven in 
the evening, “early candle light,” as the bride and groom 
were to, drive that evening to Darby, thirty miles dis- 
tant, where they were to spend a week’s honeymoon with 
an uncle and aunt of Billy’s. Long before the time set, 
’Squire Minturn’s yard was filled with all kinds of ve- 
hicles, and the horses were tied to every available fence. 


MATRIMONIAL 


97 


post, and tree. Within were assembled a merry crowd of 
young, old, and middle-aged people. The parlor and 
living-rooms, with their quaint, old-fashioned furniture, 
had been decorated by Dolly’s own hands with flowers, 
which she had carefully raised since spring for this 
very purpose. The old black painted wooden mantle 
pieces were trimmed with trailing vines, with here and 
there flowering nasturtiums intermingled, to add a needed 
touch of color. ’Squire Minturn and Ami Whitney did 
the honors and welcomed the guests as they arrived, 
and only relaxed the solemnity assumed as befitting so 
serious an occasion when they kissed a pretty girl on her 
arrival. Mother Minturn and Mrs. Whitney were up 
stairs dressing Dolly, and declaring they had never seen 
her look so pretty. Bessie Husk now seated herself at the 
melodeon, and the three ministers took their places be- 
hind the marble top, mahogany parlor table, which stood 
in one corner of the room with the old family Bible on 
it. The signal was given, and as Bessie struck up the 
wedding-march the measured tread was heard on the 
stairs, and soon Dolly and Billy paused for a moment in 
the doorway. 

The old slur, “What do you think the bride was dressed 


98 


ELSIEVILLE 


in? A green gauze dress and a blue glass breastpin/' 
and all the variations of the idea, has been so often re- 
peated in descriptions of country life and manners, that 
its refutation may not be out of place here. Country 
folks though they may be somewhat lacking in refine- 
ment, are not, as a general thing, uncouth and ignorant 
as we are often led to think from the caricatures of book 
and stage. 

What Dolly Minturn's guests saw as she and Billy 
stopped a moment in the parlor door, was a pretty, 
sweet-faced, dark-haired young girl, of a little more than 
twenty-two, in a gauzy white swiss muslin gown draped 
with small white flowers and green vines running over it 
in a pretty profusion of festoons, caught up here and 
there in a knot of sweet pea blossoms, knots of which 
were also tastefully arranged in her hair. Instead of 
the traditional “blue glass breastpin" of country brides, 
she wore a handsome intaglio pin at her throat, a present 
from her grandmother, who had worn it at her own wed- 
ding many years ago. So daintily sweet was she that 
many a young man found himself wishing that he was in 
Billy’s shoes. 

Elder Husk performed his part of the wedding cere- 


MATRIMONIAL 


99 


mony in his usual impressive manner. When he asked, 
however, ‘‘Who giveth this young woman away ?” ’Squire 
Minturn forgot to come forward and put Dolly’s hand in 
Billy’s as he had been instructed to do, and there was a 
pause after he repeated the question until Dolly’s little 
brother Jim, who was standing in the doorway, spoke up 
in his squeaking voice, “I could, but I wouldn’t be so 
darn mean,” This brought the ’Squire to his senses and 
he at once gave Dolly away. 

Mr. Fite did very well with his part of the ceremony, 
though he pronounced the couple “man and woman” in- 
stead of man and wife, and blushingly corrected him- 
self. The prayer was made by Mr. Lane, who hastened 
with the other two ministers to kiss the bride. There 
was such a scramble, then, by others who desired the 
same privilege that Billy had no chance to kiss her at all, 
but he said he guessed he could wait, as he’d probably 
have chance enough some other time. 

As it was understood that it would be half an hour 
before the supper would be ready, as extra tables had to 
be set in the living-room ; the guests employed their time 
as suited their inclinations. A little girl friend of Bessie 
Husk’s had asked her to go out on the green sward in 
iLcfO. 


100 


ELSIEVILLE 


front of the house and see the moon, which was shining 
brightly. In a short time they were joined by Mr. Fite, 
who observed that it would be pleasant to take a walk 
through the lane down to the brook. The little girl, 
without waiting for Bessie to give her consent, grasped 
her by the hand, saying, “Come along; I want to see if 
the fishes swim in the moonlight.” 

Bessie, whose first inclination was not to go, started 
off with her lively little friend down the lane, leaving 
the minister to follow soberly after them. Soon the 
little girl dropped Bessie’s hand and started to run after 
a firefly, which just managed to elude the grasp of the 
eager child. Mr. Fite, overtaking Bessie shortly, they 
both walked demurely side by side. 

“What is your father going to do about his call to an- 
other church?” he asked finally, for Elder Husk had re- 
ceived a call to become the pastor of a large Baptist 
church in another part of the state. A wealthy manu- 
facturer of the town in which this church was located 
had spent a number of summers at the Lake House, near 
Elsieville, and had become quite attached to the Elder, 
whose church he often attended. When the Baptist 
church, of which he was a prominent member, wanted a 


MATRIMONIAL 


101 


minister, he suggested Elder Husk as being just the man 
they needed, and on the recommendation of the commit- 
tee that had been sent to hear him preach, the church 
had called the Elder at a much larger salary than his pres- 
ent one, to become its pastor, not doubting for a moment 
that he would accept it, as it was a large, prosperous, 
and influential church, a call to which might well be 
considered flattering. 

‘‘Father is not going to accept the call,^’ replied Bessie, 
indignantly. “He is contented here where he has been so 
long; and while he feels flattered at the call, and grate- 
ful to the church which has given it to him, he thinks his 
work is not done here. I fail,’’ she continued with some 
warmth, “to see the Christianity in one church’s going 
into another and giving a call to a pastor who is con- 
tented and happy in all his relations with his people, and 
using all kinds of inducements to prevail on him to leave 
his charge and become their pastor. I don’t think it is 
the spirit of the Master at all.” 

“Neither do I,” replied the reverend gentleman. “It 
might be different if your father had expressed a desire 
to leave here, or had any reason for wanting to go some- 
where else, but I think it wrong, if not positively sinful, 


102 


ELSIEVILLE 


for a church to try to create such a desire in the mind 
of a minister already satisfactorily settled.’^ 

By this time they had reached the brook, and they 
seated themselves on a rustic bench beside its limpid, 
rippling waters, glistening in the clear moonlight as far 
down the valley as eye could see. Bessie’s little friend 
was running about over the adjoining field catching fire- 
flies, some of which she had tied up loosely in her hand- 
kerchief. Bessie and Mr. Fite amused themselves by 
throwing small stones into the brook and watching the 
circling ripples, small at first and then gradually widen- 
ing, until they were lost on either bank. When each 
threw a stone at the same time, the two circles soon united 
and disappeared as one. 

'^How like two wedded lives those circles are,” musing- 
ly remarked the minister ; “they start separately, but soon 
unite and become as one circle, or one life, so absorbed 
in each other that one life cannot be distinguished from 
the other. This is as it should be, where two hearts that 
truly love each other are united.” 

“Mr. Fite,” said Bessie, “do you think there are more 
unhappy than happy marriages in the world?” 

“No,’^ he replied. “I think there is more real hap- 


MATRIMONIAL 


103 


piness in married lives than we know anything about, be- 
cause you know we are sure to hear more about the un- 
happiness in this world than we do about the happiness. 
It has always seemed strange to me that people’s troubles 
should always become more widely known and talked 
about than their joys and blessings. How much oftener 
we ask our Heavenly Father to keep us from evil, than 
we thank him for the evil he has kept us from all our 
days.” 

“I never see anyone get married,” said Bessie, “without 
thinking of the words of Parthenia to Ingomar: 'And 
whence comes love ? Like morning light it comes without 
thy call. And how dies love? A spirit bright, love never 
dies at all.’ ” 

Tired of chasing fireflies, the little girl now ran down 
to the pebbly shore of the brook. “Oh, Miss Husk !” she 
called out, “come down here and see what a lot of little 
fishes are swimming around in the moon !” 

Bessie had just risen to obey the call when Alice Stin- 
son’s voice was heard singing, “Roll on, Silver Moon,” 
and Alice, herself, pretending surprise at the sight of 
them, came down the lane. 

“I wasn’t expecting to find you down here,” she ex- 


104 


ELSIEVILLE 


claimed. “I didn’t know there would be anybody down 
here spooning all alone in the moonlight.” 

“This little girl wanted to see if the fishes swam in 
the moonlight,” explained the minister with the nearest 
approach to a white lie he had come to during his min- 
istry, with considerable asperity in his tone. But on 
looking around to put his hand on the little girl, he 
found she had run off after another firefly, and inad- 
vertently touched Bessie’s arm. 

“Oh, well,” said the Stinson girl spitefully, “if it has 
got so far along that you can speak of Miss Husk as 
your little girl, I guess three ain’t company and I had 
better go back.” And with that, she walked back up the 
lane singing at the top of her voice, “For I never, never 
more from my true love will stray, by the bright silver 
light of the moon.” 

On their return to the house, they found the guests 
were seated for the serving of refreshments, which were 
abundant and varied, and best of all, mostly home-made. 
The ice cream was from East Panlet, for Dolly had de- 
clared that she was going to have store ice cream at her 
wedding and no home-made stuff, and her little brother 
had driven over to town that afternoon for it, being 
bribed to do so with the promise of a ninepence for candy. 


MATRIMONIAL 


105 


There was one guest at the wedding whom none seemed 
to know. He made himself quite at home with the people, 
but seemed to be able to parry any undue curiosity as to 
whom he was or whence he came. As the Whitneys and 
the M inturns had a large circle of relatives outside of 
Elsieville, all who did not know the man imagined him 
to be either a friend or relative of one of the families. 
He was, in fact, a tramp and horse-thief, and coming up 
to ’Squire Minturn’s house early in the evening, saw an 
opportunity, during the excitement of the merry-making, 
to lay his hands on something valuable. He had taken 
a good look around the place and had concluded to get 
away with a fine young horse and new buggy and har- 
ness that stood in the ’Squire’s barn. Dolph was a beau- 
tiful young horse that Billy Whitney had raised from 
a colt, and had given to Dolly after he had thoroughly 
broken him. Billy had taught the horse many pretty 
tricks, one of which was to stand stock still if he was 
hit with a whip or anything else, and not to move after- 
wards until certain words had been spoken by his driver. 
It was not known whether this was merely a conceit of 
Billy’s or because of some fanciful benefit the horse or 
its driver would derive from it. 


106 


ELSIEVILLE 


Father O’Flaherty was an honored guest at the wed- 
ding, and cracked many a joke with both old and young. 
‘‘By me soul,” he said to Dolly when he got a chance to 
shake her hand after the ceremony, and to give her a 
kiss that sounded through the whole house, “Miss Doro- 
thy Minturn, I beg your pardon,” he corrected himself, 
“Mrs. William Whitney, I mean, if I was a marryin’ man, 
ye’d be O’Flaherty ’s darling and not Billy’s or we’d had a 
fight for it, for you’re the swatest and prettiest bride I 
seen this many a day, and may ye both have long life and 
happiness, if ye’ll take the blessing of an old vagabond 
like mesilf.” 

Dolly patted the old priest on the cheek with her dis- 
engaged hand, and told him how much she valued his 
blessing, and how nice she thought it was of him to come 
away over from East Panlet to see such a wicked little 
heretic as she was, married. 

When Billy Whitney and Dolly made their appearance 
on the front stoop, ready for their long moonlight ride to 
Darby, where they were to spend a week at the house of 
his uncle, Jerry Bromley, they found waiting for them 
the spacious old-fashioned buggy and the old roan horse, 
both decorated as surely were never horse and buggy 


MATRIMONIAL 


107 


before. The young people had gone out to the barn and 
tied pieces of ribbon and cloth of every hue wherever a 
piece could be tied on or attached. One of grandma’s 
ruffled night caps had been purloined, and holes cut in its 
top, through which old roan’s ears were sticking, while 
the ruffles dangled around his blinders. Someone of the 
boys, although the blame was laid on the girls, had man- 
aged to get hold of two pairs of pantalets, ruffled around 
the ankles, and had encased old roan’s legs in them, mak- 
ing him look — with his nervously switching bob-tail — 
like nothing so much as an animated scarecrow. An 
ancient chanticleer had been ruthlessly snatched from his 
roost in the henhouse, and in some mysterious way, fas- 
tened to the top of the buggy, where his frantic efforts 
to release himself, accompanied by an occasional re- 
monstrance in the way of a shrill crow, added to the 
noise and cheers that went up from the old farmhouse,, 
when the happy couple finally drove out into the road in 
the clear moonlight of the early morning hours. After 
having got out of sight of the house, Billy stopped and 
released the rooster, who, as he landed on the ground, 
gave one loud crow, as if wishing them good luck, and 
hurried back home. Billy and Dolly, having cleared the 


108 


ELSIEVILLE 


decorations from the horse and buggy, settled themselves 
down in the rig comfortably for their long honeymoon 
ride. 

The fragrant odors of the dew-laden fields and woods 
were in the clear, crisp air. The twittering birds in near- 
by trees could be heard as their beauty slumbers were dis- 
turbed by the passing of the carriage. The chirping of 
crickets and the occasional croak of a frog, mingled in 
symphonic diapasons, as they vied with each other in 
concerted melodies, beating in rhythmic unison to the 
music in the hearts of bride and groom, as side by side 
they rode in the silvery moonlight along the country road, 
to make their first visit as man and wife. 

Uncle Jerry at Darby “guessed’" they must have walked 
all the way, for though he and Aunt Sarah got up at 
four o’clock and had breakfast ready for them at five, 
they didn’t get there until almost seven, and old Roan 
hadn’t started a hair, though it was a pretty hot morning. 

After the bridal couple had left ’Squire Minturn’s, 
most of the older people drove home, while many of the 
younger ones stayed and enjoyed themselves in any way 
they chose, not going home until near time for “morning 
chores.” Henry Slocum, an old friend of Billy Min- 


MATRIMONIAL 


109 


turn, who had been his schoolmate and playmate in 
younger days, had driven on horseback, over fifteen miles 
from his home, and as he had so, far to go, started for 
home a considerable time before the rest. In order to 
shorten the distance, he decided to take what was known 
as the mountain road over the Haystack Mountain, by 
which he could save three miles. The nearest way to 
reach the road was to go down back of ’Squire Minturn’s 
bam through a lane not much used, which would lead 
him through the woods to the mountain road. 

He found the gate at the end of the lane, which was 
usually closed, wide open, something he thought a little 
strange at the time, as he knew that no one at the wed- 
ding would go home that way. Thinking, however, that 
some careless farmhand had left the gate open, he dis- 
mounted and closed it to keep any stray cattle out of the 
fields. The road over Haystack Mountain was very nar- 
row and ran so close to, the edge of rocky clilfs in many 
places that there was hardly space for two carriages to 
pass, for which reason it was little traveled. Half way 
over the mountain, just as the first glimmer of daylight 
had begun to show in the east, Henry saw ahead of him 
a horse and buggy standing still in the road, with scarcely 


110 


ELSIEVILLE 


room for him to pass on horseback. As he approached, 
something familiar in the buggy struck him, and he sud- 
denly recognized the whole rig as belonging to Dolly Min- 
turn, and the man in the buggy the stranger at the wed- 
ding. The man was beating the horse, which, true to the 
trick Billy had taught him, did not budge an inch. Henry’s 
mind was made up in an instant. He would pass the 
carriage and pretend not to recognize the man, who, 
hearing someone coming, had crouched down into his 
coat collar as if not desiring to be seen. When Henry had 
got a few feet beyond he suddenly wheeled his horse 
around, jumped off and rushed up to the buggy, just as 
the man in it was beginning to get out. In an instant 
Henry was in the buggy and had the man by the throat. 
A hand-to-hand struggle ensued, and as neither had any 
weapon, it was a clear match of muscle and strength. At 
one time the man had Henry at a disadvantage and al- 
most threw him from the buggy, where he would have 
fallen down the steep side of the mountain to his death. 
Saving himself by grasping the open part of the dash- 
board, with one strong effort he threw himself backward 
on the man, who sank back, stunned, on the buggy seat. 
He then tied the man’s hands together with the hitching 


MATRIMONIAL 


111 


rope, and taking another turn around his feet, his capture 
was complete. Henry, having caught his own horse, tied 
him behind the buggy and got in, and knowing Dolph’s 
trick, spoke the word which would make him go. At a 
farm a mile beyond he found the farmer up, and just as 
they were preparing to take the man back to Elsieville, 
’Squire Minturn and two farmhands drove up. The 
’Squire had discovered the absence of his horse soon 
after Henry had left, and had been putting other farmers 
on their guard against a horse-thief. The thief himself 
confessed that he had stolen the rig just as all were in 
the front of the house seeing the young people off. He 
had driven down the back lane on to the mountain road 
and had let Dolph take his time, not wanting to tire 
him out, as he intended to drive him a great many miles 
that day. When he got on the mountain and touched the 
horse with the whip, the animal at once stood still. Find- 
ing he would not start, he had almost broken the whip 
over him. 

The man was taken back to Elsieville, and put in the 
lock-up at East Panlet by Constable Jones, and finally 
sent to jail for a number of years. 


CHAPTER VII. 


love's dawn. 

Unlike most young ladies of her age, Bessie Husk had 
never imagined herself in love. She was not given to 
melancholy; she had never flown into a passion at the 
non-appearance of a lover; she had never bored her par- 
ents with the recital of a young man's good and bad 
qualities, generally ending with scolding said parents for 
their want of sympathy. Bessie was not lacking in lovers, 
who would have been glad to lay siege to her heart; but 
any attempts at sentimentality on their part, she would 
repulse with a laugh or a joke and in the end they would 
have to ‘‘curb their bosom’s pain.” She had often in- 
dulged in day dreams of an ideal lover to whose love she 
would respond with all the ardency of her nature. Ideals, 
however, seldom become substantial realities. Of late, 
Bessie’s ideal had the dark hair and piercing eyes of 
Samuel Fite. The more often the vision appeared to her, 
113 


114 


ELSIEVILLE 


the more sweet it became, awaking in her heart the de- 
licious sensations of love’s dawn. 

It became now quite usual for Bessie to want to pur- 
chase some things at Obed Bowles’ store, and get the 
mail in the afternoon. It is possible that the fact that 
Mr. Fite’s going for his letters at the same time had no 
influence on her, but when he met her there he had always 
a call to make on some of his church people on the way 
to her home, so that the two were often seen walking 
slowly down the street together. The villagers were not 
unconscious of the wooing, and Obed Bowles said one 
day to a customer whom he was trying to convince that 
New Orleans molasses was much better than Sugar House 
Syrup to eat on hasty pudding (he was just out of syr- 
up) “I guess there’ll be a union of two of our churches 
in this town, if things keep on as they’re going. I guess 
it will be considerable of a mix-up of Baptist and Ortho- 
dox if I ain’t mistaken.” 

One afternoon as Bessie and Mr. Fite walked together 
away from the post office, their conversation turned on 
non-church-going people; for there were, even in this 
little village, a considerable number of its inhabitants 
who rarely, if ever, attended divine worship, though they 


LOVE’S DAWN 


115 


were not considered an evil class by any means, but 
simply had no interest in religious matters. Some of 
these were young people who had attended the Sunday 
schools until in their “teens,” and had then ceased at- 
tendance at both Sunday school and church. 

“I am considerably worried,” said the minister to his 
companion, “that there are so many people in this town 
who will not come to church, and whom I cannot seem 
to reach or make any impression on.” 

“Do you see Peleg Allen over there?” asked Bessie. 
“Father has given him up long ago as a gone case. The 
last time he was urged to go to church by father, he said : 
T ain’t going to any church to have a parcel of ministers 
preach at me, and look at me when they talk about hard- 
ened sinners and such. I work hard all the week and 
the only day I have got for any sort of recreation is Sun- 
day. I am up early and late every day, and if I do take 
my fishing-pole and go down to the brook and catch a 
trout or so on Sunday, who can say that amidst the en- 
joyment of the best works of nature’s God I do not com- 
mune with him and get more inspiration for living a 
good life than those who are sitting in a stuffy church 
and listening to a prosy sermon, and being told how bad 


116 


ELSIEVILLE 


they are and all about their lost and ruined condition. 
I can’t stand it. You know what the poet says : 

“ 'Go thou and seek the house of prayer ; 

I to the woodlands wend and there, 

In lovely nature see the God of love. 

The swelling organ’s peal, 

Wakes not my soul to holy zeal, 

Like the wild music of the wind-swept grove.’ 

" ‘Elder, you get to Heaven your way ; and, parson. 
I’ll get there mine; and I hope when you do get there, 
you’ll have a good place among the Heavenly choirs, and 
I, may be, will have an old broken harp, with only one 
or two strings left on it, put in my hands and told to go 
oif in some lonely corner and play on it softly, so as not 
to disturb the other angels with their new musical in- 
struments.’ After this, father concluded to let Peleg 
alone.” 

Bessie was breathless from her effort correctly to re- 
port the blacksmith’s remarks to her father. 

“I never cast pearls before swine,” sententiously replied 
the minister, “so have never tried to convince the black- 
smith of the error of his ways. He seems to me to be 


LOVE’S DAWN 


117 


like many others of the grown people of this town. They 
don’t want any other religion than their own, and they 
must have it sugar-coated to suit themselves, what few 
religious ideas they possess.. I am more worried how to 
keep the young people in the church and to get them in- 
terested in that which I know will be their lasting good.” 

‘‘You know, Mr. Fite,” remarked Bessie good humor- 
edly, “we have to mix castor oil with some pleasant tast- 
ing liquid to get it down some people, and when they take 
it they only taste the pleasant stuif, but down with it goes 
the medicine and it does them good. So I think churches 
should be made more attractive to the young than they 
are, and not devoted entirely to religious exercises and 
teaching. Make the church a place where young people, 
and old also, will find as many attractions as they do 
outside, and you will keep them in it longer. Let them 
have meeting rooms of their own, where they can play 
games and read and meet socially and talk; yes, and flirt 
if they want to, as young people are sure to do when 
they get together. To my mind, religion should minister 
to all the wants of humanity, social, intellectual, and 'a 
natural desire for amusement. By more attention to 
these material things, I am certain churches would have 


118 


ELSIEVILLE 


a stronger hold on the young, especially, and would be 
a great help in developing in them that inner and spiritual 
consciousness we all more or less possess.” 

While the minister did not entirely agree with Bessie 
in her views, he looked down into her earnest face with 
undisguised admiration that she should so have the cour- 
age of her convictions, as to express them so freely to 
one whom she knew would so widely differ with her. 
As he looked, around the bend in the road a little ahead 
of them, dashed a runaway horse and buggy, with the 
reins loosely dangling, and on the seat was Father O’ Flah- 
erty, in instant danger of being thrown out, as the horse, 
in his mad gallop, dashed from one side of the road to the 
other. 

Mr. Fite, without a moment’s hesitation, snatched a 
loose paling from the fence and rushed out into the road, 
brandished it before the horse. As it slackened its pace, 
the minister seized the bridle and resolutely held it, al- 
though he was dragged some distance, until it came to a 
stop, panting and foaming at the mouth. Father O’ Flah- 
erty clambered out of the buggy as quickly as his weight 
would permit, and having gathered up the reins from be- 
hind the horse’s feet, was profuse in his thanks to his 
deliverer. 


LOVE’S DAWN 


119 


Bessie, with blanched face at the peril her two friends 
were in, laid her hand gently on the arm of Mr. Fite when 
he rejoined her, and said, with emotion in her voice : “You 
are a hero, to risk your life so gallantly ; you might both 
have been dashed to pieces and killed.” 

Soon after, they parted, and when the minister had 
made his call, he returned to his lonely room to study 
up his next Sunday’s sermon and indulge in reveries in 
which Bessie Husk and theology became so confused 
that he let his sermon go until another time and gave him- 
self up entirely to dreams of love and Bessie. 

If anything had been wanting before to prevent Miss 
Husk from giving her heart entirely to Samuel Fite, his 
heroic act of this afternoon supplied the deficiency, and 
on arriving home, she gave her parents a glowing ac- 
count of the runaway, and extolled the act of the min- 
ister in the most ardent language. On retiring to the 
privacy of her room, she threw herself in her old-fash- 
ioned rocker and burst into a flood of tears that had no 
sorrow or pain in them, but were produced by the joy 
and exaltation of a heart into which the sunshine of love 
had just begun to shed its ecstatic rays. 

The minister, in the lonely room of his boarding-house 


120 


ELSIEVILLE 


soon found his reveries disturbed by a heavy footfall on 
the stairs, and Father O’Flaherty entered, without knock- 
ing, and seated himself in an easy chair to regain his 
breath, which he had lost from the exertion of climbing 
the stairs. 

“Begorra, yer honor,” said he, “ye must have better 
wind than I have, if ye go up and down thim stairs many 
times. I came up to thank ye decently for yere act in 
stopping me horse, the brute, and when ye get married 
to that swate young lady. Miss Beauty Husk, I’ll be ther 
to give ye a priestly blessing, if I have to get a dispen- 
sation from Rome to do it.” 

Samuel Fite blushed as he thanked the priest for a 
service he had been only too glad to render, and asked 
him how it happened he did not have his old piebald 
horse that day. 

“My old horse,” the priest replied, “was sick, and the 
liveryman at East Panlet lent me this one. He went all 
right until I got near here, when a big horse-fly got on 
him, and in trying to kill it with me whip I gave the 
horse rather a sharp cut with it, and dropped the reins 
over the dashboard out of my left hand. What, with 
the cut of the whip and the reins dangling at his heels. 


LOVE’S DAWN 


121 


the horse started to run away, and if a heretic minister 
hadn’t run out in the road swinging a fence paling in 
the air like he was mowing oats on a hillside, I don’t 
think I’d be here now. But wait till I get back to East 
Panlet and give it to the man that lent me such a beast !” 

Mr. Fite went down stairs with the priest and helped 
him into his buggy, and he drove away for home with 
some trepidation, as he had not fully recovered from his 
fright. He arrived safely at East Panlet, however, and 
when he drove up to the livery stable, berated the owner 
of the horse for letting him have such a “crazy wild 
baste.” 

Samuel Fite could endure the suspense no longer, and 
he determined to know his fate at once. As he knew of 
but one honorable way of doing so, the next afternoon 
saw him in Elder Husk’s study. 

The Elder could not imagine the cause of his visit. 
After the interchange of a few ordinary civilities, Mr. 
Fite asked the Elder if he thought two persons of dif- 
ferent religious denominations should marry. 

“Not if there are any particular differences in their re- 
ligious beliefs,” answered the Baptist minister, “but I 
should decidedly object to a Baptist marrying into some 


122 


ELSIEVILLE 


Other denomination, as his views on what I consider some 
of the essential points of religion would be so opposed, 
that there would be, I should fear, considerable unhappi- 
ness on account of it. Now there is my Bessie,” he con- 
tinued, “I know she could never be happy with any other 
than a Baptist, and I don’t believe she would fall in 
love with any other.” 

Samuel’s courage fell several degrees at these remarks 
of the Elder. “But don’t you think,” he asked, “if they 
both really loved each other and agreed to disagree on 
their religious opinions, they could be happy together?” 

The Elder, after a moment’s thought, replied ; “Yes ; I 
have no doubt that where there is true love and such per- 
fect understanding as there should be where two hearts 
are really united, there could be perfect happiness even if 
they did differ in religious matters. But I hardly see the 
drift of your questions, sir. Have you a case in point, 
and if so, who are the persons?” 

Samuel “beat around the bush” no longer, and in a 
somewhat hesitating manner said : “I love your daughter. 
Elder, and have come here this afternoon to ask your 
consent for me to tell her so. I can assure you that I 
have never spoken one word of this to her and shall never 
do so, unless you give your full consent.’^ 


LOVE’S DAWN 


123 


The Elder rose from his chair and walked up and down 
his study for a few moments in deep thought, then ap- 
proached the young minister, and placing a fatherly hand 
on his shoulder, said: 

“Mr. Fite, you are an honorable man, and I admire 
you for the way you have come to me first and asked for 
Bessie, instead of trying to steal her from me, and ask- 
ing my consent afterwards. You do have my permission 
to see her at once, if you choose. There is no one to 
whom I would more gladly trust her happiness, and I 
do hope you will be successful in winning her love, if 
you have not done so already, for I know you are much 
in her mind. When she told us the other day about your 
stopping the runaway horse, there was rather more of fer- 
vor in her voice than was consistent with the simple nar- 
ration of the occurrence. She is in her garden now, and 
after seeing her, you may consider yourself invited to tea 
and to the quilting-party this evening, if then you find it 
is agreeable to both.” 

Samuel thanked the Elder for his good opinion and 
consent to his plea, and at once went into the garden 
where he found Beauty seated in the arbor, arranging 
flowers in a basket which was to grace the tea-table that 


124 


ELSIEVILLE 


evening. Bessie’s heart gave a thump of delight on see- 
ing the minister, while she wondered at the same time 
what could have brought him to the parsonage that after- 
noon. Some church business with her father, was her 
conclusion. 

The minister seated himself at Bessie’s side and began, 
at her request, to help her cut off the long stems of the 
roses which lay scattered on the path at their feet while 
she arranged them in the basket. After he had sorely 
pricked his fingers and scratched his hands with the 
thorny stems, and cut too short a few of the roses, so 
that they could not be arranged in the basket, leaving all 
roses and no stems left on them, she playfully took the 
scissors away from him and allowed him to stop. 

have been having a talk with your father,” he said 
hesitatingly, after a few moments. 

“Ah ! on some church matters, I suppose,” she replied. 

“Yes,” he rejoined, “ we did mention a few things per- 
taining to religious subjects.” 

“And I hope,” she said, “settled them satisfactorily to 
yourselves ?’^ 

“Quite,” was his answer to her implied query. “I 
asked him a great favor and he granted it.” 


LOVE’S DAWN 


125 


There was a tremor in his voice that caused her to 
look up, and for the first time their eyes met, charged with 
hidden meaning. With the curiosity of her sex, Bessie 
persisted, while pretending to fix in the basket one of 
the roses whose stem he had cut too short to make it stay 
anywhere. “If not too much of a secret, may I venture to 
ask what was the favor my father granted you ?” 

“He said I might come out in the garden where you 
were,” answered the minister meekly. 

“Was that all of his great condescension?” 

“No, he said he thought a Baptist and Orthodox could 
be married and be happy together, if they loved each 
other.” 

“How romantic,” Bessie demurely remarked. “Is some 
one in your church and ours going to be married? Who 
can it be? Do tell me.” 

In her great interest in a prospective wedding in the 
village, Bessie let fall her basket of roses, but the min- 
ister did not attempt to pick them up for her. Instead he 
drew closer to her on the seat, and taking her not unwill- 
ing hand in his, poured out his tale of love for her and 
told of her father’s consent to tell it to her. He told 
her he had loved her ever since the first time they had 


126 


ELSIEVILLE 


sat together in the arbor, when she had pinned the flower 
in his coat. With all the eloquence inspired by his great 
love, he pleaded for just one word from her, to let him 
feel that he might win her for his own. In the enthusiasm 
of his pleading, he had slipped one arm around her waist, 
while the other hand gently clasped one of hers. She 
made no eifort to disengage herself, but looking sweetly 
and lovingly into his face, her own suffused with blushes, 
she softly murmured the words he longed most to hear, 
“I do love you, Sammy.” 

When the lovers went to the house, some time later, 
they carried together a basket of pure white roses with 
here and there a few sweet pea blossoms entwined, which 
might well be imagined to symbolize the nearest flower to 
orange blossoms the garden afforded. 

Of course the Orthodox minister stayed to tea, a fact 
which somewhat discomposed Airs. Husk, as the table was 
set in the kitchen, because the living-room was given up 
to the quilting-bee to be held that night. 

Airs. Husk regretted it extremely to be compelled to 
entertain the Orthodox minister in her kitchen at the 
first meal he had ever eaten in her house; but he soon 
put her at her ease, and the meal proceeded v/ithout any 


LOVE’S DAWN 


127 


allusion to the happy event of the afternoon. Bessie 
looked more charming than ever in the young man’s 
eyes, and instead of going into the Elder’s study with 
him after tea, he would have been more pleased if Bessie 
and her mother had accepted his offer to stay in the 
kitchen and help wipe the dishes. 

The quilt, on which the invited guests were to display 
their skill in needle work that evening, had been stretched 
on four long sticks pegged together, so as to make a 
square frame, supported at the four corners by empty 
barrels. In this instance, the quilt was not to be a patch 
work one, but a plain-colored cotton comfortable, white 
on one side and blue on the other. Bessie and her 
mother had stretched the comfortable on the frame in 
the afternoon, with the white side up, and on this the 
women were to stitch in the designs which would be 
brought out in bold relief by the filling of cotton batting. 
The marking of the designs was done after the quilt was 
stretched, and after the quilters had worked a short 
distance, the finished part was rolled on the frames. The 
star, crescent, and shell patterns were the favorites until 
the center was reached, when an elaborate floral design 
was worked in, encircled by rows of stitching, marked by 


128 


ELSIEVILLE 


means of plates of various sizes. Sometimes other pretty 
patterns were stitched on quilts, drawn from cardboard 
designs, cut out by some artistic women of the village, 
and these were lent or exchanged in a spirit of mutual 
helpfulness. 

When the quilters arrived at the parsonage, at '^early 
candle light,” they were surprised to see the Orthodox 
minister there, for the men were not expected to come un- 
til late in the evening, to eat doughnuts and see the 
women home. While the young man and the Elder sat 
in the study, just off the living-room, discussing mat- 
ters of interest, the women seated themselves around the 
quilt-frame and began the work for which they had come. 
Soon the deft fingers were busy stitching in the pretty 
designs, while Bessie employed herself threading needles 
and putting them beside each quilter to save time. As 
is usual, when matrons of a village meet on such an oc- 
casion, their tongues wagged even faster than their 
nimble fingers made the pointed shafts of polished steel 
ply through and through the comfortable they were fast 
making a thing of beauty. Mrs. Husk could not keep the 
news to herself, and told the women on each side of her 
of Bessie’s engagement to the Rev. Mr. Fite. It was not 


LOVE’S DAWN 


129 


long before the news spread all around the quilting- 
frame, and Bessie, in her innocence, wondered at the 
many sly pinches and nudges she received from her 
friends, as she laid beside them their threaded needles. 
When the comfortable was finished, she was given numer- 
ous hugs and kisses from the women and many words of 
congratulation, and not a few little jokes were whispered 
in her ear, of the kind matrons know so well how to 
make at the expense of a newly engaged young woman. 
They dared take no liberties with the minister, but when 
they bade him good night, a little tighter grasp of the 
hand and more fervor than usual in their tones told him 
that they knew the facts, and approved of the proposed 
union of the Baptist and Orthodox contingents. 

The young minister walked home on air that night so 
happy was he in the knowledge that Bessie had promised 
to be his. Many were his resolutions that he would 
make himself, in every way, worthy of her, and- improve 
himself in his profession to the bent of his ability, for in 
this way he knew he would best please his Bessie. 


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CHAPTER VIIL 

ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES. 

If the cOiUrse of true love ran smooth with Bessie Husk 
and her lover, it was no fault of Alice Stinson’s. When 
she heard of the engagement, she recorded a vow that 
she would make them all the trouble in her power. She 
was full of envy of Bessie, for “catching the parson,” as 
she called it, and her pique was great at not having been 
able to attract him to herself, though she had used every 
artifice to accomplish her aim. Being crafty as well as 
of an envious and mischief-making disposition, she de- 
termined to do her work quietly, while pretending to be 
the best of friends with both. There is no enemy so dan- 
gerous as the one, who, pretending friendship, like a 
deadly reptile, slyly spreads the venom of its malice in 
the path of its victim and stealthily glides away to its 
hiding place until the poison has done its work. 

131 


132 


ELSIEVILLE 


Alice called on Miss Husk in a few days after the en- 
gagement was announced, and in the most gushing man- 
ner congratulated her, but before she left she could not 
restrain herself from saying some things she knew would 
make Bessie uncomfortable. 

hope Mr. Fite will live long enough for you to marry 
him, Bessie,’' she said spitefully. ^‘You know his mother 
died of consumption and I have heard the doctor has 
said he must take good care of himself, as he fears one 
lung is a little aifected now, and you know consumption 
is hereditary, and our long winters up here are awful for 
anyone with weak lungs.” Bessie made no reply but the 
remarks of Alice caused her some little disquietude. As 
a parting shot, the sour-minded young woman asked 
Bessie if she had ever heard that the parson had a love 
scrape when he was studying for the ministry, and broke 
off the engagement when he found the girl wasn’t as 
rich as he thought she was. Alice had never heard such 
a thing but she was not above inventing any sort of a 
story that she thought would help her carry out her ends. 

^'1 have never heard any rumor of the kind, and I 
wouldn’t care if he had been engaged a dozen times so 
long as he loves me now, and I know he does. I am not 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 133 


a bit jealous/’ she went on, ^‘and have the most perfect 
confidence in Mr. Fife,” replied Bessie. 

Alice, finding she had gone a little too far in her malice, 
rose to go, and asked Bessie to go to the circus with her 
next week. There was to be one of the greatest shows 
and circuses at East Panlet that had ever come to that 
part of the country, and she and two girl friends were to 
drive over in the carryall in the afternoon. There would 
be room for Bessie to ride over with themt if she liked 
to go, and they would see the show in the afternoon and 
be home in time for tea. Bessie told Miss Stinson that she 
would go if her father would let her, as she greatly wanted 
to see this great circus of which she had heard so much. 

When his daughter asked Elder Husk if he would ob- 
ject to her going with the girls, he thought a few mo- 
ments as he always did before taking any action on an 
important matter. He then told her that so far as he 
was concerned he had no objection to her going if she 
wished to. He thought it a matter between her own con- 
science and herself, and she had arrived at sufficient 
years of discretion and religious experience to be able to 
judge whether her going to a circus or any other place 


134 


ELSIEVILLE 


of amusement would do her conscience any violence or 
be harmful to herself or anyone else. 

“I am inclined to the opinion/^ he continued, '‘that what 
would be wrong for some to do, may be right for others. 
Of course, from my standpoint as a minister, I am not in 
favor of amusements, or such as are usually classed as 
‘public places of amusement,’ for I think they are a means 
often of great harm, especially to young people, and at- 
tract them away from that which is pure and good. But 
I would not, by any means, denounce all public amuse- 
ments, nor stigmatize as sinners above all others, those 
who attend them. I have seen on pulpit platforms in 
church entertainments as theatrical a performance, with 
all the accessories, as could be seen in any theater that 
exists. Everyone has, I think, inbred a certain dramatic 
sense and love of action which will assert itself in a 
greater or less degree, in the desire to see enacted plays 
which amuse and please the eye, and whose dramatic 
action finds in their minds a ready response to an innate 
love for forceful representation of cleverly contrived 
conceptions. Like almost any enjoyable things in the 
world, they can be hurtful as well as pleasurable ; the sin, 
if there be any in their use, lies in their over-indulgence 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 135 

and abuse, more than in the restrained and temperate en- 
joyment of them. 

‘‘Were we fully satisfied as to just what the best thing 
in life is for us to do, we would naturally devote our- 
selves so absolutely and entirely to its performance and 
practice that the diversity so necessary to our well being 
and best development, would be so neglected and lost 
sight of, that we would become dwarfed in all the capabil- 
ities of our natures. Go with the girls to the circus, 
my daughter,” he concluded, “if you think you will en- 
joy it, and derive pleasure from it. Should you see 
Father O’Flaherty, give him my respects, and tell him he 
must drop in to dinner the next time he is in Elsieville.” 

Bessie and her friends thoroughly enjoyed their after- 
noon’s outing at East Panlet, and found plenty to talk 
about on their ride home. As they drove by the Catholic 
parish house. Father O^Flaherty was walking in the 
front yard, and Alice Stinson, who was driving, stopped 
the horse at the gate that Bessie might deliver her father’s 
message. The priest accepted the invitation gladly. 

“I am pleased,” he said to Bessie, “to hear of your 
engagement to that Orthodox minister, and when you get 
married Fll be there willy nilly, whether I get an invite 
or not.” 


136 


ELSIEVILLE 


^‘Yes, they are engaged sure enough,” interrupted Alice, 
“and,” she added spitefully, “I don’t suppose either of 
them think themselves good enough for each other.” 

The father, detecting the malice in her voice, answered 
her: “The minister couldn’t find a better nor swater 
young lady than Miss Husk in all the country ’round, and 
I know some, not half so good, bedad, who have tried 
hard enough to get him for themselves.” 

At this hit from the priest, Alice whipped up the horse 
and drove away without giving either of them a chance 
to say good-by. 

As Father O’ Flaherty walked back into his yard he 
muttered to himself, “That Stinson girl has the devil in 
her and she’d do the young people harm and make trouble 
between them. She’s capable of it, the sour imp of the 
evil one that she is.” 

On the plea that the road would be less dusty than the 
one by which they came, Alice proposed that they should 
drive home on what was known as the “back” road, 
knowing that this way they would have to enter the 
village at the upper end and pass the house where Mr. 
Fite lived. As she had supposed, he saw them pass and 
the next afternoon when he called at the parsonage, asked 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 137 


Bessie if she enjoyed her ride with the girls the day 
before. 

“We had a fine time over to the circus at East Panlet,’' 
said Bessie, unconscious that she had done anything to 
displease him. 

“Did you go to the circus yesterday T’ he inquired in a 
displeased tone. 

“Yes; I went with the girls and enjoyed it very much. 
Father said he had no objection to my going. I was 
glad to see such a great circus,’' the young woman inno- 
cently replied. 

The minister, indignant not only that she should go to 
what he considered an improper place, but that she should 
express her enjoyment of it, rose as if to leave the arbor, 
and said severely: 

“I am surprised. Miss Husk, that you have the temerity 
to admit that you can possibly find any enjoyment in 
such a place of wickedness as a circus, and I am grieved 
that you have the disposition to do such a thing when you 
know how opposed I am to such places. You show no 
consideration for my feelings.” 

“I am not aware, Mr. Fite,” replied Bessie, her face 
flushing, “that you have acquired the right to presume 


138 


ELSIEVILLE 


to control either my conscience or my actions. If I am 
ever married to you it will then be time enough for you 
to make the attempt.” 

‘^Very well, Miss Husk,” the minister responded an- 
grily, “if you have so little regard for my wishes now, I 
fear for the consequences, should we ever assume closer 
relations. The ‘if’ in your remark would seem to indi- 
cate a doubt of the propriety of our ever being married. 
I will release you from your engagement and bid you 
good day.” With that he turned away from her and 
strode towards the garden gate. Alice Stinson’s deep 
laid scheme to make trouble by inducing Bessie to attend 
the circus was near being successful. 

Bessie had more self control than her lover, and sooner 
recovered her temper. In a quiet voice she called after 
the minister as he neared the gate. 

“Oh, Mr Fite, don’t you think you had better take 
your hat with you? You might need it if it should rain.” 

The minister turned back to get his hat and as he again 
approached the seat in the arbor, the anger in his heart 
gave way to his great love. Taking Bessie in his arms, 
he covered her cheeks with kisses, exclaiming: “Oh 
darling, forgive me, I can’t leave yxDU so ! I didn’t mean 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 139 


those unkind words I said just now ; I do love you ! Only 
say you forgive me and love me, and you shall do any- 
thing you wish, my precious love!” 

As Bessie confidingly laid her head on his shoulder 
and whispered that he was forgiven, the cloud that had 
obscured the bright sunshine of their love faded away 
in misty vapor, revealing the full light of love’s bright- 
ness restored. 

Mr. Fite on his way home that afternoon met Alice 
Stinson, who naturally did not lose the opportunity of let- 
ting him know that Bessie had been to the circus, and she 
added, in her eflfort to say something that she knew he 
would not like: 

“I do believe Bessie Husk would like to be a circus 
rider ; in fact, she said she thought it would be great fun 
to ride around a ring dressed up in short clothes on a 
white horse.” 

‘T am glad you young ladies enjoyed the circus yester- 
day,” the minister responded with dignity. “I* am sure 
it did Miss Husk good. She has been rather pale lately, 
and a little recreation once in a while is good for us all, 
you know. Good day. Miss Stinson.” 

Alice looked after him, open-eyed, and so astounded at 


140 


ELSIEVILLE 


the failure of her plan that all she could say to herself 
was, “I do declare, I’m disgusted.” 

Since the burning of the Methodist meeting-house and 
their worshipping in the Orthodox church, the Rev. Mr. 
Lane and Mr. Fite had been thrown so much in each 
other’s company that they had become fast friends and 
constant companions, and they often sat together under 
the weeping-willow in the yard of Mr. Fite’s boarding- 
house discussing religious matters as well as other sub- 
jects in which they had a mutual interest. One day they 
were talking about one of the Methodist brethren who 
had fallen back into the paths of sin from which Mr. 
Lane hoped he had been reclaimed, when he joined the 
church a year ago. The man had been a '‘drinking man,” 
and while he could support his family in comfort when 
sober he was often so drunk that his family was neglected 
and suffering. 

The Methodist minister and other members of the 
church had taken him in hand and interested him in re- 
ligion, and in course of time he was admitted on profes- 
sion as a church member, and had maintained a good and 
regular standing as such for nearly a year. In an evil 
hour, however, he had begun drinking again, not being 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 141 


able entirely to subdue the inherent or acquired appetite 
for liquor which seems to be the inheritance of some un- 
fortunate human beings who, try however hard, do not 
find any human agency potent enough to eradicate it 
from their systems. Sad as it may seem, religion in 
many instances does not, though undoubtedly able, con- 
trol or eliminate that and many other diseases and pas- 
sions of the body and mind. 

“I suppose,'^ remarked Mr. Lane, “we must expect 
some falling from grace among our church members. I 
am afraid we are apt to depend too much on divine, and 
not enough on human influence to work changes in the 
characters and habits of individuals. The evil one is 
always at work and never idle in his efforts to drag down 
those whom he can entrap. His nets are spread every- 
where, day and night, to catch his victims, while our 
churches and religious influences seem to work spasmod- 
ically, as it were, and do not always reach out and get 
hold of the hands of those to whom they should be the 
most helpful.” 

“What you say. Brother Lane, is true,” remarked the 
Orthodox minister. “I am greatly concerned over the 
fact that there is so much Mead wood' in the churches, so 


143 


ELSIEVILLE 


many people who are professing Christians and yet who 
do not show by their lives that they are in any way dif- 
ferent from those who are not church members, and I am 
free to confess that the churches would be much better 
off without them. I had rather have in my church out 
and out professors of religion who really believed and 
tried to live up to what they profess than a pretender 
who does not really know what he believes and is contin- 
ually trying to compromise between religion and the 
world.” 

Owen Bassett, who had come into the yard to talk 
with the minister about some needed repairs to the 
church and had heard a large part of the conversation 
between the two clergymen, seated himself on the rustic 
bench which surrounded the trunk of the weeping-willow, 
and joined in the conversation by saying: 

“You two parsons seem to be a little down in the 
mouth today. I know there are undesirable people in 
the churches, for I don’t think the churches use as much 
care as they should in taking in members. They seem to 
think they must take in anyone who wants to come, and 
they rarely, if ever, turn down anyone who applies, or 
even ask them to wait until they have got a little more 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 143 


experience and can then give some better and more defi- 
nite reasons for the steps they want to take.” 

“I don't agree with you, Owen,” said Mr. Lane. “I 
think the fact that anyone that has applied to the church 
door to become a member of it has shown by the act and 
desire, sufficient evidence to entitle him to admission. 
In our church we put him on probation for a while, you 
know, and don’t admit him until he has shown himself 
worthy, or at least sufficiently qualified to know just 
what he is doing.” 

“Well, I know there are people in churches,” replied 
Owen rather testily, “who ought not to be there and who, 
I believe, didn’t join them from the best of motives. Some 
join because it helps them in their business ; some because 
it is a good thing from a social standpoint and gives 
them a standing in the community; and some because 
they are over-urged to do so by the ministers and don’t 
really understand just what they are doing. This, of 
course, fortunately, applies only to a few and not to that 
large majority of church members who have become 
such from a sense of duty and the obligation they owe to 
their Divine Creator, and to his saving grace that has 
come into their hearts through the provisions he has 
made for their salvation.” 


144 


ELSIEVILLE 


Mr. Fite, who had listened with great interest to the 
conversation between his colleague and Owen, now in- 
terrupted it. 

“My little experience as a Christian minister has taught 
me that the restraining and helpful influence a member- 
ship in the ‘Church Militant’ has on the mind and life 
of anyone who is a member of it, is never lost on him and 
exercises its holy and divine benefits on him as long as 
life lasts, even though he may fall often and not come 
up to the full measure of his privileges. This, I think, 
applies to young and old alike.” 

Then, abandoning religious discussion, Owen and the 
two ministers went over to the church and all were soon 
discussing the merits and demerits of shaved cedar shin- 
gles or sawed hemlock ones, with which newly to roof 
the building. 

Alice Stinson was thoroughly vexed at the failure of 
her plans to make a quarrel between Bessie Husk and her 
lover. Not discouraged, however, she finally thought of 
a scheme which, if successful, she was sure would be pro- 
lific of the results for which she hoped. Early one after- 
noon she drove up to the parsonage with her horse and 
buggy and in the most engaging manner possible, asked 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 145 


Bessie to ride over to the lake hotel with her to call on 
some of the ladies there with whom they had a mutual 
acquaintance. 

As it was a beautiful day Bessie gladly agreed to go, 
and they drove off over the hills in great glee. They were 
cordially greeted by the ladies and spent a pleasant hour 
with them under the shady trees in the grove on the lake 
shore in front of the hotel. Mr. Crary, whom they had 
rriet at the picnic, joined them after a while, and at once 
endeavored to monopolize Bessie’s attention, and while 
they were talking the landlord of the hotel announced 
that there was a telephone call for Miss Alice Stinson. 

Alice had expected this, as she had given her little 
brother fifty cents early in the afternoon and told him 
to ride over on the mail-wagon to East Panlet, there to 
purchase for himself a coveted jack-knife he had seen 
when he was last there, and from there to telephone to 
her at the lake house about four o’clock. After receiving 
the message, Alice hurried back to the grove and, pretend- 
ing to be greatly excited, told her friends that her brother 
had just telephoned her from East Panlet that he was 
there and that she must come over immediately and take 
him home. She said she feared he had hurt Himself in 


146 


ELSIEVILLE 


some way and that she did not know what she could do, 
as there was only room for two in her three-quarter 
buggy, and of course she couldn’t leave Bessie alone at 
the hotel. With this she looked appealingly at Mr. Crary 
who at once said that if Miss Husk would permit he 
should be charmed to have her ride home with him, as he 
had intended to take a drive that afternoon with his own 
horse and buggy. 

Though Bessie would have much preferred to drive 
home with Alice, she saw how necessary it was that her 
companion should go by the way of East Panlet and take 
her brother home ; so she graciously accepted Mr. Crary’s 
proffer, and he told her he would be ready in half an 
hour or more. 

Alice was in high spirits and full of spiteful exultation 
that her malicious scheme was so near to success, for she 
knew if Mr. Fite did not see Bessie and Mr. Crary ride 
into Elsieville there were plenty of others who would, 
who would be sure to report to him that Bessie and ‘‘that 
rich Mr. Crary from the Lake House” had been driving 
together that afternoon. Waving goodby to her friends 
Alice whipped up her horse that she might get into the 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 147 


village about the time Mr. Crary and Bessie would and 
“be in at the death/’ as she said to herself. 

As Bessie and the ladies sat chatting on the piazza of 
the hotel, and Alice was far on her way to East Panlet, 
they heard the noise of a carriage coming down the lane 
towards the hotel, and when it came in sight from out of 
the woods, which hid it from view until near the front of 
the house, they saw it was the Rev. Mr. Fite driving a 
horse and open buggy. He had come over to the Lake 
House to make a call on an invalid lady who had been 
spending a few months at the hotel, and on whom he had 
called a number of times previously. He had stopped at 
the parsonage on his way over intending to ask Bessie 
to accompany him, but found she had ridden over with 
Alice Stinson. He was quite certain, however, that he 
could induce her to go back with him if he could get to 
the hotel before she left for home, and for fear of miss- 
ing her he had driven over the hills at so much faster 
pace than old Dobbin was accustomed to traveling that 
when he drove up to the hotel the horse was w'heezing 
violently. 

Bessie told her lover that Alice had received a sudden 
call to go home by the way of East Panlet and that Mr. 


148 


ELSIEVILLE 


Crary had relieved them of a dilemma by offering to take 
her home in his carriage. On hearing this jealousy was 
about to assume the mastery in the minister’s mind, when 
he remembered the scene in the parsonage garden a few 
days ago, and allowed his sound common sense once 
more to regain its sway. 

suppose, then, there’s no chance for me,” he said 
laughingly. 

“There is, if you want it,” she replied with a smile. 

Mr. Crary took with great good nature his pretended 
disappointment at Bessie’s having made other arrange- 
ments to be taken home ; for he had, after all, an engage- 
ment to drive with a farmer’s daughter, whose simple 
head he was turning by his unmeaning attentions to her. 
While the minister made his call the horse rested; and 
then Bessie and the minister drove away towards Elsie- 
ville, happy in each other’s society. 

Alice Stinson had sorely tired and permanently injured 
her horse, so rapidly had she driven him home over the 
long ten miles. At East Panlet she lost considerable time 
hunting up her little brother, whom she finally found in 
a vacant lot playing mumble-peg and pitch knife with 
some other boys. They had almost won his new knife 


ENTERTAINING, NOT AN ANGEL, UNAWARES 149 

from him when Alice jumped from the buggy, ran into 
the lot, and seizing him by the ear, cried: “You little 
wretch you, didn’t I tell you to stay on the depot platform 
until I came for you ?” 

Driving home as rapidly as she could urge the horse 
she entered the village and, not seeing Bessie in her gar- 
den as she passed the parsonage, was sure she had not 
yet reached home. Elder Husk, who was standing at the 
gate, was surprised to see Alice and her brother without 
Bessie, and asked what had become of his daughter. 

“Oh, that rich Crary feller over at the hotel asked her 
to take a ride with him,” she replied maliciously, “and 
she went, and of course I wasn’t anywhere when she had 
a man to drive her home, so I went over to East Panlet 
to get some things I wanted.” 

When she reached the place where the Bensonville 
road joined the main road to Elsieville she checked her 
horse that she might have a look up the road towards the 
lake, and she could hardly believe her eyes when she saw 
Mr. Fite and- Bessie Husk driving slowly towards her, 
the lines lying loosely on old Dobbin’s back. The minis- 
ter touched his hat, and Bessie smiled sweetly as they 
passed. Alice started so violently that she almost fell 


150 


ELSIEVILLE 


from the buggy; and clutching her little brother by the 
arm she gave him such a pinch that he shrieked with pain, 
and in his anger arose from his seat, snatched her gipsy 
straw hat from her head, tore it in pieces, and flung them 
in her face. 

Alice’s feelings at what she saw and had experienced 
can better be imagined than told, as she scored to her 
credit another failure of her malice prepense. 


CHAPTER IX. 

REMINISCENT. 

Uncle David Clark, though he was rarely spoken of in 
Elsieville by any other appellation than ‘‘Uncle David,” 
had been elected to the Legislature of the state by a large 
majority of the votes of the people of his district. He 
was a deacon in the Baptist church, chairman of the 
school committee, and was also one of the selectmen of 
the town. He was a devoted and conscientious church 
member, and lived up to his religious professions in every 
way possible. He possessed such good, common sense, 
discretion, and judgment, that his advice was often sought 
and nearly always acted on ; and when one time he had 
expressed the desire to see the capital once in his life he 
was nominated and elected to represent the people at the 
state seat of government. Mild-mannered, kind-hearted, 
and gentle, it was a benediction to come under the influ- 
151 


162 


ELSIEVILLE 


ence of his simple, guileless personality. He had a kind 
word for everyone, young or old, and even animals 
seemed to know that in him they had a friend. One of 
his farmhands used to say, “Uncle David could milk the 
ugliest cow on the place and never get a pail kicked over.” 

When the Legislature convened Uncle David took up 
his abode in the capital city for the session in a modest 
hotej that had been recommended to him by Moses Par- 
ker, one of his fellow members of the House, and a well- 
to-do resident of the state capital, whose acquaintance 
he had made at the hotel on the lake, where he was spend- 
ing his vacation. The two men had often talked together 
on the occasions when the Deacon had driven over to 
the Lake House to deliver the butter and eggs with which 
he kept it supplied. 

One evening, shortly after the Legislature opened. Un- 
cle David sat in the reading-room of the hotel, a little 
homesick and despondent. It was prayer-meeting night 
at Elsieville, and it was a long time since he had missed 
the mid-week gathering. He had decided to go to his 
room, and, after reading a little while, retire early, when 
Moses Parker came in and, slapping him on the shoulder 
in a hearty manner, said: 


REMINISCENT 


153 


“Cheer up, Uncle; you look as glum as if you’d made 
a sixpense and lost a shilling.’^ 

“Yes,” replied David, “I do feel a leetle down in the 
mouth ; it’s our prayer meeting night up home and I never 
missed one before.” 

“Oh ! That’s what you want, do you ?” Moses said 
cheerfully. “Come with me and I will take you to a 
meeting. I was just about thinking of going to one my- 
self.” 

The good old Deacon’s face lighted up in an instant 
and Moses and he were soon out on the street together. 
The rest of the incident it will be best to let Uncle David 
Clark tell in his own language, as he did down in Obed 
Bowles’s store one evening after he returned from the 
city. 

“I didn’t ever know Moses Parker was religious be- 
fore, but I thought it was real kind of him to offer to go 
to meeting with me, and I began to feel around in my 
pocket to see if I had any change to put in the contribu- 
tion plate. Moses asked me what I was fumbling around 
in my pockets for, and when I told him, he said, ^Never 
mind about that, David, it is my treat tonight.’ So I 
thought if he didn’t mind putting in for both of us. I’d 


154 


ELSIEVILLE 


let him, though I knew I’d feel real mean, for I never did 
let a contribution box pass me yet without putting in 
what I thought I could afford to. 

^‘Moses took me quite a ways down the road and turned 
into another one, and just ahead of us was a big building 
that looked as if it was all afire outside. It didn’t seem 
to burn up very fast, though, and none of the people 
around didn’t seem to mind it, and I said to Moses, ‘You 
city folks get so used to seeing buildings burn up, I sup- 
pose, that it gets to be an old story, and you don’t pay any 
attention to it.’ ‘That ain’t afire,’ says Moses to me, ‘that’s 
lamps outside of the building, and they light them at 
night so as to get the people to come in. That’s the 
meeting-house we’re going to, David.’ 

“Pretty soon we got down to the front of the building, 
and such crowds were going into a great front door 
lighted up like all the rest of the church. I said to Mo- 
ses, ‘I guess they’re going to have a protracted meeting 
tonight.’ He didn’t make any answer, but took a little 
key from a great bunch he pulled out of his pocket, and 
opened a little door just inside the great front one all the 
people were going into, and we went through a narrow 
dark passageway into a great big high room with six or 


REMINISCENT 


155 


seven galleries running all round it, and all were filled 
up with big glass boxes filled with all sorts of things — 
curios, I think Moses said they were. He told me they 
were put there so the people who came early to meeting 
needn’t stand around and talk about other people’s clothes, 
but could occupy their time in looking at the strange 
things there were in the world. Moses took me up to 
the top of the meeting-house, into a big room, which was 
filled with little cubby houses with glass windows in 
front, so you could look in and see what the people were 
doing in them, and the first one we looked in there was 
a man who had just hit another in the head with a 
hatchet and was going to jab a knife into him also, and 
I hollered out, ‘Here! you, stop that!’ And I turned 
round to Moses and said to him, ‘Haven’t you got no con- 
stables in this city to call in to take that man off to the 
lock-up ? He’s killing that other feller !’ But Moses was 
so busy wiping his nose with his handkerchief that he 
couldn’t hear me, and when he could speak he said, ‘That 
ain’t alive; these are all wax works — make-believe peo- 
ple.’ And then we went down into a great big meeting- 
room most full of people, and one of the deacons of the 
church, I suppose he was, with a short jacket on, with 


156 


ELSIEVILLE 


red carpet binding all over it, came up and made us a 
bow and said to Mr. Parker, ‘The usual box I suppose, 
sir ?’ and he took us into a sort of horse stall, all trimmed 
up in satin and velvet and painted in all the colors of the 
rainbow and full of stuffy easy chairs, and when we set 
down we could see the whole church full of people, and 
right out where the pulpit ought to be, but it wasn’t there, 
just back of the platform was hung up the biggest green 
blanket I ever saw, and I thought probably the melodeon 
was behind it, and that the choir felt a little ashamed to 
stand up and sing before such a large congregation, and 
so they hung up the green blanket in front of them. Down 
in front of the pulpit platform was a sort of cow-yard, 
with a fancy fence around it, off from the rest of the 
congregation, and this yard was full of stands, same as 
Ben Hawes puts his sheet music on when he leads our 
choir singing an anthem ; and pretty soon a lot of fellers 
came up from down cellar with all sorts of musical in- 
struments in their hands and took places in front of all 
the stands, and then a big fat feller with a little ox goad 
in his hand, took a seat on a raised stoop in the middle 
of the yard and the lights in the meeting-house went up 
all of a sudden and the fat feller looked around and 


REMINISCENT 


157 


shook his ox goad at all the other fellers and then made 
believe he was going to throw it at the green blanket 
back of the pulpit and all the fellers in the cow-yard be- 
gan to play on the musical instruments they had in their 
hands, and it seemed to me as if everyone was playing 
a different tune and trying to drown out the feller’s in- 
strument next to him. Then I began to think, ‘That ain’t 
no psalm tune; this ain’t no meeting-house Moses has 
brought me to, it’s a theater,’ and I turned round to Moses 
and said reproachfully, ‘This ain’t any religious meeting 
you’ve brought me to; it’s a theatrical performance and 
I’d thank you to take me right back to my hotel.’ 

“Moses took hold of my arm to keep me down in my 
seat, and he laughed and said : 

“ ‘Now, Uncle David, don’t go to getting mad. True, 
this is a theater, but there isn’t going to be any play here 
tonight; it’s going to be a grand opera in English, and 
there’s going to sing tonight some of the best singers in 
the world, and I know you will enjoy it even if it’s not 
the meeting you thought we were going to. I knew I 
had to make some sort of a pretense to get you here.’ 

“I told him I supposed it wouldn’t look right to get up 
and go out before all those people unless I was sick, but 


158 


ELSIEVILLE 


I did hope there warn’t any people in the congregation 
from up my way, for if there was Fd never hear the 
last of it when I got home. 

“Just then the fellers began to make their instruments 
play louder, and some one began to roll up the big green 
blanket from the bottom and a whole lot of people behind 
it began to sing at the top of their voices. And such 
dresses and clothing as they had on you never did see, 
and I sat as if under a spell, so beautiful did it all seem; 
and I thought if only a opera could so affect a staid old 
deacon like me that if a play was anything like it I didn’t 
wonder that so many people got carried away by a the- 
ater. Moses told me the name of the opera was ‘Martha,’ 
and when the best girl singer of them all sang some of 
her songs I was so carried away with her singing that I 
whispered to Moses and asked him if he thought she 
could be hired to come up to Elsieville and give us a con- 
cert. 

“He replied, ‘Yes ; he guessed she could, if we wanted 
to mortgage the whole town to pay her what she would 
charge.’ He asked me what I thought they paid her for 
singing to-night, and I said I thought with her voice 
she ought to get two dollars and a half to three dollars 


REMINISCENT 


159 


to sing like that. And when he told me how many hum 
dred dollars she did get, I hardly believed him. 

“Long towards the end I almost made a fool of my- 
self. One of the fellers who did a good deal of singing 
of the opera picked up a rose from off the floor, and 
when he was giving it to the girl singer he sang the 
‘Last Rose of Summer’ in such a sweet and pathetic voice, 
better than I had heard Beauty Husk sing it many a time, 
I was so excited and carried away that I burst out crying 
like a baby, and jumped up from my seat and was just 
going to holler out to the congregation to give three 
cheers for the feller, when Moses pulled me down and 
said he guessed we had better be going; but I wouldn’t 
budge an inch. I wanted to^ see the whole thing out, and 
did.” 

When Uncle David went home to his hotel that night 
his mind was in a turmoil. He did not know whether to 
regret what he had done or not. He was certain that 
he had enjoyed the evening, and felt that what he had 
seen and heard had done him good; and he could not 
convince himself that any violence had been done to his 
strong religious feelings or sensibilities; neither could he 
satisfy himself that any doubts he had in his mind as to 


160 


ELSIEVILLE 


the right or wrong of his spending the evening at an 
opera, instead of at a religious meeting, was any evidence 
that it must be wrong ; or there would no doubt exist, for 
his good, common sense had taught him that such doubts 
do often come in the minds of those who desire always to 
do the right thing, even when they are doing something 
they cannot feel is wrong in itself. He read a chapter in 
the Bible, as usual before retiring, with his accustomed 
reverence and attention, and when he knelt at his devo- 
tions at the side of his bed the only extenuation he had 
to offer was : “If I have done any wicked thing may I be 
pardoned for it, through that source from whence only 
pardon can be had.” 

The next day at the State House, Moses Parker intro- 
duced Uncle David to the Rev. Algernon Payton Cam- 
pion, who besides being the chaplain of the Legislature 
was also pastor of the West End Baptist church. Mr. 
Campion at once became charmed with the mild-man- 
nered old man from up country, and gave him a cordial 
invitation to a seat in his pew at the church, any Sunday 
Uncle David was in town, and also asked him to come to 
all the week-day meetings that were held, and told him 
he would request the clerk of the church to put him on 


REMINISCENT 


161 


the mailing-list and send him all notices that were issued. 
Uncle David thereafter found in his letter-box at the 
hotel printed matter from the West End church, postage 
paid, in such quantities that he thought the church must 
<own a printer’s shop, and reasoned that it must cost a lot 
of money to pay postage stamps and get out so many 
notices of all kinds. He said to himself, he didn’t see 
why the church couldn’t save all that money for the poor 
by giving out the notices from the pulpit on Sunday, but 
he was not long in observing that many city pastors lost 
no opportunities to, keep themselves and their churches as 
prominently before the public as possible, and in as at- 
tractive a manner as places of amusement advertised their 
programs. 

When the Legislature adjourned the Deacon returned 
home, having made many good friends who were at- 
tracted to him by his many admirable qualities of heart 
and mind. As a representative in the House his career 
had not, of course, been a remarkable one, but his fellow 
members had found him incorruptible, and his vote had 
always been for wise and righteous legislation. On his 
arrival at East Panlet he found that a large number of 
his fellow townsmen of Elsieville had driven over to 


162 


ELSIEVILLE 


meet him and to give him an ovation. He was seated in 
an open baronche with some of the leading citizens at the 
head of a procession of vehicles, and driven home, where 
he arrived in time to rest a while and attend a lecture on 
Phrenology to be given that evening in the Baptist church 
by a traveling “Professor of Phrenological Science” who 
had arrived in town a few days before and obtained the 
use of the Baptist church in which to deliver a lecture, 
and in the meantime had done considerable business in 
examining the bumps of a great many people at the mod- 
est sum of ten cents a head. Many and ludicrous were 
the mistakes he had made, and the characteristics he had 
attributed to some were so entirely opposite to those they 
were known to possess that he had been the cause of 
many family dissensions and quarrels over the hitherto 
unknown and undiscovered good and bad qualities pos- 
sessed by his subjects. 

The Professor told one farmer in the presence of his 
family that his bump of philoprogenitiveness was of ex- 
traordinary size. His wife, who was standing by, ex- 
claimed : 

“There! I always told you some time you’d find out 
about your darned ugly temper from some one else than 


REMINISCENT 


163 


me, and now you knoiw the name these fellers call it by. 
Just speak it over again, Professor, so he won’t forget it.” 

The Professor told her the bump meant a good and not 
a bad quality. 

“You can’t cheat me,” she answered him sharply. “Any- 
body that’s got a bump in their head with such a long 
name as you call it by, shows they’ve got a bad temper, 
and I know Jim has.” 

Another farmer in the town who was known as the 
meanest, stingiest skinflint for miles around, the Profes- 
sor discovered, so he said, had an abnormal bump of 
benevolence and language, and, he should judge, was fore- 
most in all the charities of the place. The man’s mother- 
in-law, who heard the Professor’s portrayal of the skin- 
flint’s good qualities, remarked: 

“As far as benevolence is concerned, I guess the phren- 
ologist has got hold of the wrong bump; but as for the 
language part of it, there must be something in the busi- 
ness after all, and that bump-doctor knows what he’s talk- 
ing about; for there ain’t a man in the whole town of 
Elsieville who can beat Si Slocum in the language he 
uses when he’s mad, and most of it is from a book he’s 
never read, either.” 


164 


ELSIEVILLE 


The Baptist church was filled to its capacity on the 
evening the Professor was to deliver his lecture on 
phrenology. He had wisely caused handbills to, be dis- 
tributed around the town, announcing the lecture and say- 
ing that no admission fee would be charged, w'hile in 
very small letters at the bottom was the statement that 
the deacons would take up a collection for him at the 
close of the lecture. 

It is remarkable how many people are anxious to get 
something for nothing, and on the contrary, if there is 
any cost attached to any entertainment, particularly in a 
church, it is noticeable how large an audience stays at 
home. Let the hard-worked pastor, in an attempt to in- 
troduce a little variety in the church, get up an entertain- 
ment for his people and to reimburse himself for the 
necessary expense, let him charge a small admission fee, 
the chances are the attendance will be so small that the 
pastor will have to pay part of the expense out of his 
own pocket. But let it be announced that the Ladies’ 
Society will hold a sociable, and that ice cream and cake 
will be served free, the whole congregation will be there, 
many with friends, who come because they are told re- 
freshments will be served. 


REMINISCENT 


165 


There are a large number of church tramps in exist- 
ence, who never pay anything towards the support of the 
different churches. They wander around, too, from one 
church to another, once in a while putting a penny in the 
collection box noiselessly and unostentatiously, and with 
an expression that would indicate the contribution of a 
quarter at least. 

The Professor estimated his audience in the Baptist 
church that evening good for a fairly large collection. 
He exerted himself more to amuse than to instruct his 
hearers and as he had what is called the “gift of gab’' 
he was successful. A number of people were invited to 
come to the platform and have their heads examined free 
of charge, and he caused a great deal of merriment by 
the wrong characteristics he ascribed to some of those 
who accepted his invitation. The man, known to all the 
people as the most monumental prevaricator in town, had, 
said the Professor, a very large bump of conscientious- 
ness, and he knew a man with such a bump could always 
be believed in any statement he made. At this the audi- 
ence went into such roars of laughter and loud applause 
that the Professor, supposing this a mark of their ap- 
proval of his skill in making so correct an estimate of the 


166 


ELSIEVILLE 


man’s character went to the front of the platform and 
bowed most profoundly right and left. Being nearer the 
edge than he thought, however, he lost his equilibrium 
and pitching headlong from the platform, fell sprawling. 
Fortunately he was not injured by the fall, and a bull 
terrier, that had accompanied a child to the church, leaped 
at the prostrate man, caught his coat, and began trying 
to shake him as if he was a rat. The Professor shouted, 
“Take him off ! Take him off !” The dog was finally re- 
moved and the Professor, regaining the platform and his 
self-possession, announced that the deacons would take 
up the collection. This was the signal for a large num- 
ber of people to leave the church, but the two deacons 
managed to get the collection-box around to enough of 
them to collect ninety-seven cents for the Professor, who 
pocketed it with as good grace as possible and left the 
place vowing he never again wanted to lecture in Elsie- 
ville. 


CHAPTER X. 


FELICITY. 

The Rev. Samuel Fite and Bessie Husk had now been 
man and wife for some little time, notwithstanding Miss 
Alice Stinson’s malicious and unsuccessful efforts to 
break up the match. 

They had been married at the Baptist parsonage by 
the Rev. John Lane, in the presence of a large number of 
friends. The Rev. Father O’Flaherty was there, as full 
of good humor and jokes as usual. He had given Bessie 
a kiss and a hug and his blessing, saying: “Bedad, for 
once in me life I am going to hug the swatest little girl 
in Christendom.” 

It had been arranged that Bessie and her husband 
should live at the parsonage with the Elder and his wife, 
who could not bear to be separated from their daughter ; 
and as the Elder began to feel some of the infirmities of 
years coming on him, he enjoyed having a younger man 
1«7 


168 


ELSIEVILLE 


as his coimpanion, even though he was a minister of a dif- 
ferent denomination from his own. 

It may be interesting to record here that Alice Stinson 
fell in love with, and finally married a tin peddler, who 
used to visit Elsieville at intervals with his wagon filled 
inside and out with a most amazing assortment of mer- 
chandise, which he was ready to exchange for cash or old 
iron, lead, copper, rags, or old bottles, which barter he 
threw into bags that were slung on and under his wagon. 
He was reputed ito have made considerable money at his 
business, and Alice, in despair of ever getting a husband, 
made such violent love to him every time he came to town 
that he yielded at last and they were married by the Rev. 
John Lane, as she said she would not have Parson Fite 
marry her if she had to send over to East Panlet for a 
minister. 

After his marriage a great change came 'over Mr. Fite. 
His views on many religious matters were broader; his 
sermons were more interesting and bore the marks of 
more consideration for the frailities of humanity, and he 
preached a larger gospel of love and human nature. In 
fact, Samuel Fite was becoming a very popular minister 
with both old and young. 


FELICITY 


169 


When the term of the Methodist minister expired his 
conference sent him to another and larger church in a 
distant part of the state, the society having concluded that 
it would not be possible to erect a new church building. 
They had become so attached to the Orthodox people and 
church, moreover, that they voted to disband as a society 
and join Mr. Fite’s church. This they did, giving an 
added strength to the church, not only in numbers but 
in finance. 

Going home from the Orthodox church that Sunday 
Owen Bassett and Obed Bowles chanced to be walking to- 
gether, and the conversation turned on a few members 
of the church who had rather looked down on and dis- 
approved of the Methodists. They were of the class 
to be found in all churches, who, from some fancied 
superiority, thought themselves the best people and the 
best society of the church. 

“I do think,” said Bowles, “those folks put on more 
airs with the least to back them up of any people I know.” 

“I don’t know any superiority of money,” answered 
Owen Bassett. “And some people in our churches who 
put on so many airs, and expect others to cringe to them, 
just because they have a little more of this world’s goods 


170 


ELSIEVILLE 


than sojne others, make a great mistake. I think the 
question is, what have they done or what have they ac- 
complished more than others, that entitles them to the 
great amount of consideration they demand. Their being 
well off is nothing but an accident in many instances, and 
they had nothing to do in earning their money in any 
way; it wasn’t their brains that earned it. Somebody 
else’s hard work and brains earned the money they put on 
so many airs about.” 

“Yes,” said Bowles, rather sourly, “and those people 
are the ones that are the hardest to get their bills out of. 
A good many of them have to be dunned and dunned 
before they pay what they owe me for stuff they buy at 
my store. Did you see Jim Allen at church today?” 

“Yes,” replied Owen ; “I didn’t know he’d come home 
again ; I thought he went away to be a sailor.” 

“So he did, but I guess he got enough of it to last him 
his life time, and is contented to come back and wofk in 
his father’s blacksmith shop. He was down to the store 
last night and was telling the boys about his voyage. 
He said the first night out to sea was an awful dark and 
rainy one and blowing great guns. The captain told all 
hands to go aloft and take in sail. Jim said he didn’t 


FELICITY 


171 


know what the skipper meant, and was standing around 
with his hands in his pockets feeling real sick when the 
captain yelled out to him: 'Here, you landlubber, get 
aloft there and help the boys, and be quick about it, too !’ 
He hollered back to him : 'Cap, I can’t go up that aire rope 
ladder this kind of a night without a lantern and umbrel- 
la/ At that the man came up to him and took him by 
the scruf of his neck (and seat of his breeches and landed 
him on the rail of the vessel and told him to scramble up 
that ladder in mighty quick time. When he got to Nor- 
folk Jim said he asked the captain to let him go home 
and he wouldn’t never want to go to sea again, and he 
guessed the captain was glad to get rid of him, for he 
hadn’t done anything the hull time but lay in his bunk 
and puke. So he said he took a steamer up to New York 
mighty glad to get started back for the old blacksmith 
shop. At night Jim said he tumbled into his berth with 
his clothes on, boots and all, and ihe had just got to sleep 
when the steward came along and shook him and woke 
him up and hollered at him, 'You’re not allowed to get 
into berths with your boots on.’ He just opened his 
eyes and told him it won’t hurt ’em any, they wasn’t his 
best, and turned over and went to sleep again.” 


172 


ELSIEVILLE 


“I have no doubt/’ said Owen Bassett, ^Teleg Allen 
will be glad to have Jim back again to help him. He 
seemed quite cut up about his wanting to go to sea, and 
since he went I have noticed a change has come over 
Peleg; he seems more thoughtful and serious like, and 
last Sunday afternoon as I passed his house he was sit- 
ting out under the maple tree in his front yard and read- 
ing a book that looked to me like a Bible; I do hope it 
was.” 

The weather had been severely hot; no rain had fallen 
in the valley for over three weeks and everything was 
parched and dry. The grass was so scorched it crackled 
under foot. One day the heat had seemed to be more 
intense than before, with an oppressive stillness pervading 
the atmosphere. The sky had a yellowish hue. In the 
afternoon there was a stillness in the air that seemed to 
be almost unendurable. The cattle in the fields huddled 
together with their heads facing the west and their tails 
straightened out as if in some undefinable terror. Misty 
vapors, as usual, hung over the distant mountain tops and 
seemed to be rotating around each other as if impelled 
by some unseen mighty force in the distance. Soon a 
small black cloud was seen to arise over the top of old 


FELICITY 


173 


Haystack Mountain, the nearest one to Elsieville. It 
grew larger and larger, rapidly approached the valley, 
and was soon hovering over it like a pall. The lightning 
grew more vivid and the accompanying peals of thunder 
louder and louder. The wind blew with a violence that 
nothing could withstand, and soon the town was in the 
grasp of a most terrific tornado. 

Houses and barns were unroofed, fences blown down, 
trees torn up by their roots, and a large amount of dam- 
age caused by the fierce war of the elements. The great- 
est violence of the tornado seemed to be directed towards 
the Orthodox meeting-house, which gallantly withstood 
the onslaught for a while, but after swaying to and fro fo,r 
a short time fell to the ground, a mass of ruins. The storm, 
having completed its destructive work, soon passed over, 
leaving a change of wind that broke the drought, and, 
cooling the atmosphere, made life more comfortable for 
the dwellers in the valley. As the storm subsided some one 
ran down to the Baptist parsonage and told Mr. Fite that 
his church was destroyed. He and Elder Husk hastened 
to the scene of the disaster and found by that time there 
had gathered around the ruined meeting-house a large 
number of towns-people. The men reverently took off 


174 


ELSIEVILLE 


their hats and stood in silence as they saw their pastor and 
the Elder approach. Mr. Fite, with tearful eyes, surveyed 
the ruin. The Elder, with uncovered head, said, with great 
emotion in his voice: ^‘Let us ask help for this afflicted 
church from whence only help can be obtained in such 
a disaster as this.” With scarcely a dry eye among those 
who heard it, he poured forth a petition that surely arose 
far above the hills that surrounded the little town, up to 
the Great White Throne, where sits Infinite Compassion 
and Mercy for those who can say submissively though 
perhaps tearfully, “He doeth all things well.” 

The Elder then and there told the Orthodox church 
people that the Baptist church was at their service until 
they could decide what they would do hereafter, and that 
he would arrange with his son-in-law that all the ser- 
vices at the Baptist church for some time, should be union 
services, and in no way of a denominational character, 
adding that it would be a great relief to him to get rid 
of preaching once in a while and have an opportunity to 
listen to some one else’s sermons, even though it was 
only Mr. Fite’s, he added jokingly. From the way in 
which the Baptist church members applauded the Elder’s 
invitation it seemed certain that the Orthodox brethren 
would receive a cordial welcome at the Baptist church. 


FELICITY 


175 


At a meeting of the congregation of the Orthodox 
church, held a few days after the occurrence, it was de- 
cided to accept the offer of the Baptists and to worship 
with them for a while, as the consideration of the build- 
ing of a new Orthodox church was out of the question 
for the present. 

The next Sunday Mr. Fite preached to a large congre- 
gation in the Baptist church. Elder Husk sat in one cor- 
ner of the old haircloth straight-backed and square- 
armed sofa on the pulpit platform, and for the first time 
listened to a sermon by his son-in-law. It was evident 
that he was greatly pleased, and congratulated himself 
that now he might have some relief occasionally from 
his own pulpit ministrations. When Mr. Fite gave out 
for the last hymn, “Blest be the tie that binds,” and added, 
“and let us all join heartily in singing it,” many eyes in 
the congregation were wet with tears, as the good old 
anthem of brotherly love and religious union shook the 
very rafters of the old stone church. After the benedic- 
tion had been pronounced by Elder Husk, and the con- 
gregations met on their way out, there was so much hand- 
shaking and welcoming of friends that it seemed as if 
they would never go and let the sexton close the church. 


176 


ELSIEVILLE 


The Elder and Mr. Fite had many long talks together, 
as to the condition of church matters in Elsieville. The 
Elder, realizing that he would be put in an embarrassing 
position when a service would have to be held in the 
church to which, in accordance with the strict lines of its 
accustomed observance by the members, he could not in- 
vite his son-in-law nor other members of the Orthodox 
church, worried and fretted over this condition of affairs. 
The more he thought of it and made it a subject of his 
devotions the more he became convinced that it was not 
the true spirit of unity taught by his Master. As convic- 
tion, with the Elder meant conversion as the next onward 
step, he went to the Orthodox minister and suggested that 
the union of the two churches would be the best thing for 
both, at least, so far as Elsieville was concerned. Mr. 
Fite had before thought of something of the kind and 
did not see why some common ground could not be 
agreed on, by which one united church could be formed 
out of the two, especially as the old stone church was com- 
modious enough to accommodate all the church-goers in 
Elsieville for a long time to come. As for himself, he 
was just as willing to immerse as he was to sprinkle 
anyone who preferred to have the ordinance administered 


FELICITY 


177 


in that way ; and so far as infants and children were con- 
cerned, he had always looked on the ceremony as more 
of an act of consecration of their children by parents than 
the implying of an obligation on them when they arrived 
at years of discretion and joined a church. He thought 
the administration of the ordinance would be more ef- 
fective and more of an assistance in the formation of re- 
ligious character if administered to people as believers 
when taken into a church on profession. 

The Elder was delighted to hear his son-in-law express 
such liberal views, which were so evidently the result of 
a deeper and broader study and thought. It was agreed 
between the two pastors that each should talk the matter 
over with his people, and that a meeting of the two con- 
gregations should be called soon in which a general dis- 
cussion would be held over the union of the two churches. 

One day Father O’Flaherty hitched his old piebald 
horse in front of Owen Bassett’s shop and went in to 
have a chat with him. Owen brought from his house a 
glass of cold milk and half a pumpkin pie, telling the 
Father that he guessed a little something to eat wouldn’t 
do him any harm after his long drive. 

Always ready to partake of creature comforts his rev- 
erence commenced an onslaught on the pie, saying : ‘‘You 


178 


ELSIEVILLE 


Elsieville folks do get up the biggest pumpkin pies I 
ever saw;’^ and added: “What are the Orthodox church 
people going to do about a new meeting-house?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Owen. “They seem so con- 
tented as they are, and times are so hard and money so 
difficult to get I guess it will be some time before we do 
anything.” 

“You seem to have got pretty near to the kind of 
church I mentioned once here in your shop, which you 
called a double-back-action, triple-expansion one I think ;” 
laughingly said O’Flaherty. 

“Yes; our people do seem contented in the old stone 
church, and the two congregations get alojig nicely to- 
gether, and as for Elder Husk, he seems to enjoy having 
Mr. Fite preach for him so often. It gives him a rest, 
and he sits back on the old sofa behind the pulpit and 
looks lovingly at his son-in-law while he is preaching. I 
believe the old gentleman is as much in love with his 
son-in-law as his daughter is, and as for mother Husk, 
it’s Sammy there and Sammy here, with her. The other 
night when I was down to the parsonage she was fussing 
over him all the time, telling him to shut the window 
down behind him, for he might get cold in the draft, and 


FELICITY 


179 


asking him if he had much of a headache now, about 
every five minutes. What, with the coddling of the 
mother and Bessie, if he don’t get spoiled, it won’t be 
their fault.” 

^‘You can’t spoil a minister, you know, Owen,” said 
the priest. “They’ll take all the petting they can get and 
then want more.” 

“By the way, Father,” asked Owen, “can you tell me 
how you Irishmen ever made a Catholic St. Patrick out 
of that Baptist missionary you call Ireland’s patron saint ? 
You know he never was a Roman Catholic. He baptised 
all his converts by immersion and it is not thought he ever 
gave any allegiance to the Holy See at Rome.” 

“Well, you know,” replied O’Flaherty, “we always try 
to get hold of the best there is, and St. Patrick was a 
good man, sure, and we canonized him. By the powers, 
Owen, when ye die. I’d be in favor of making a St. Bas- 
sett of you if ye , hadn’t a little too much of the old Nick 
in you to fill all the requirements of saintship.” 

Owen laughed, and as Father O’Flaherty had by this 
time eaten up all of the half a pumpkin pie and washed it 
down with a glass of milk, Owen went out and helped his 
reverence climb into his buggy, and bade him good-bye. 


180 


ELSIEVILLE 


As the result of the talks the two pastors had been able 
to have with various leading members of their churches 
it soon became noised around town that there was a pos- 
sibility of the Baptists and Orthodox uniting and form- 
ing one church on a basis that would be agreeable to both. 
As was natural when a division of opinions existed, as 
to the desirability and feasibility of such a course, the 
joint meeting of the two churches which was soon called, 
was largely attended. 

The two pastors made a strong plea for church union, 
claiming that the uniting of all the religious forces of 
the town would result in a strength that would give a 
power and force for good whose influence would be felt 
by the whole community. They invited a full discussion 
of the matter from members of both churches and con- 
gregations. It could readily be seen that neither church 
was ruled by any one or two man power, as is often the 
case in many other churches, where everything has been 
cut and dried beforehand by a few, and the rest of the 
people are expected to accept, whether they desire to 
or not. In fact, the spirit of church union in its broadest 
sense pervaded the meeting. Of course, as was to be ex- 
pected, there was some opposition to the project from 


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181 


members of both churches, but the majority ruled, and it 
was finally agreed that the two churches should amalga- 
mate under the name of “The Elsieville United Churches’ 
Society.” 

Our friend. Uncle David, or as he has been called since 
his return from the Legislature, the Honorable David 
Clark, Obed Bowles, the postmaster, and Owen Bassett, 
the shoemaker, and the two ministers, were elected a 
standing committee and trustees of the United church, 
by which name it was hereafter to be known. It was 
agreed that the church polity should be very similar to 
that outlined by Mr. Fite in his talk with Elder Husk, 
as narrated in a previous page. A committee was ap- 
pointed to present at a future meeting such other rules as 
might be necessary to the general welfare of the church. 

The question of the ministers and their standing in the 
church seemed to be the most perplexing one for the 
meeting to decide. In an affecting speech. Elder Husk 
told the congregation that he was anxious to be relieved 
from the active cares of a long pastorate, and while he 
desired to be as near to the church as ever, and as inter- 
ested in its work, it would please him to see his son-in- 
law appointed its active pastor, and he would be its hon- 


182 


ELSIEVILLE 


orary one without salary if they desired. Owing to some 
good investments his bankers in the city had made for 
him he felt his income in the future would be more than 
was necessary for his support the rest 'of his life. It was 
therefore voted that the Rev. Samuel Fite should be the 
pastor of the United church, and Elder Husk, Pastor 
Emeritus, without salary. 

Thus, in outline, was launched a religious enterprise 
or experiment, if the term suits better, whose progress 
was watched with great interest by churches of different 
denominations in the hope that, if it proved a success, it 
might be adopted with equal advantage in many small 
places, if not practicable in large ones. Real church 
unity in every sense of the word will probably never be 
realized; denominational barriers will ever rise against 
it. Those whose liberal minds and broadened views 
would most desire it, will probably never see the full 
realization of their dreams. 

So let us consider this “Tale of Elsieville of Yesterday” 
but a phantasy of the brain. But before our clouded 
vision clears, we see Samuel Fite and his wife sitting 
again in the vine-clad arbor in the garden at the parson- 
age. He holds in his hand a pad of writing-paper, on 


FELICITY 


183 


which he is jotting down headings for his next Sunday’s 
sermon, and occasionally reads to Bessie what he has 
written and asks her how it sounds. Sometimes she sug- 
gests an alteration, but more often her comments are, 
“Fine!” “First rate!” “That’s just the thing !’^ Bessie is 
skillfully embroidering on a diminutive white flannef 
garment, much too small for herself, and entirely too 
large to fit any doll. 

The minister puts aside his writing and thoughtfully 
gazing on the little garment in his wife’s hands, he says : 

“Do you remember, dear, how near I came to losing 
you once in this arbor, on account of my petulance?” 

“I do,” she replies archly, “and you would have lost 
me, too, if you hadn’t forgotten your hat in your hurry 
to get rid of me.” 

He clasps her in his arms in ^a loving embrace and im- 
prints a kiss on her lips, and in a voice full of affection, 
says, “But you do love me now Bessie dear, don’t you?” 
She nestles her head confidingly on his shoulder and 
whispers, “Sammy, my love.” 

And a robin in the tree above sang its sweetest lay. 


THE END. 





















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